


A More Profound Bond

by QuietWriter48



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester, Deception, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gabriel and Sam Winchester - Freeform, Gabriel without Grace, Ghost Dean Winchester, Hotels, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Major OTP is temporarily endangered, Male rape, Men of Letters Bunker, Mind Invasion, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, PTSD, Sabriel - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Seraph Castiel (Supernatural), Temporary Character Death, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wing Kink, Winged Castiel, adding tags as I go sorry, castiel loses his shit, destiel smut, emotional and psychic bonds between partners, emotional trauma of SO of rape victim, erectile dysfunction due to rape trauma, grounding touch through flashbacks, m/m - Freeform, male sexual dysfunction due to rape, new angel introduced, new relationship between Gabriel and Sam Winchester, rape recovery for men, rape/noncon, revenge torture, temporary major character death in chapter 7, this fanfiction is an alternate storyline not compliant with TV Show timelines, trauma flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietWriter48/pseuds/QuietWriter48
Summary: This story is roughly based on the characters as they are in Seasons 8 and 9. My story may be considered an AU, because the events do not always incorporate Series/Canon Events or Timelines.Dean Winchester and Castiel share a deep bond that no one can break, and it sorta freaks Dean out - a lot. He has zero value for himself, and the concept of trusting anyone terrifies him so deeply he has become psychotically independent, and pushes everyone away who he might be able to depend on.But Castiel won't settle for that; he sees Dean's soul, he knows the effect he has on Dean inside, whether Dean will admit it or not.  He knows Dean complains about personal space to anyone who will listen, but he also knows that he can feel the deep sense of safety and relative peace Dean feels when he is close.  So he's learned to sort of disregard the noises Dean makes.My Castiel is not as battle unready, or as unworldly, as the series frequently depicts.  Our intrepid heroes run into some pretty serious problems, but overcome them like they always do. Later chapters focus on Sabriel. We see Sam has been grieving Gabriel's loss, and since The Cage, has little patience for Gabe's Trickster side when he does show up.





	1. An Angelic Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up that this is a work in progress, and this is my first time writing a fanfiction of this length. There may end up being some twists in there I haven't planned on, and some traumatic or triggering stuff that doesn't get mentioned in the summary. I'm adding tags as I go, so please read through all the tags.  
>  **I'll add tag and trigger notes at the beginning of each chapter for you, so please pay attention to the notes, they'll help you navigate any triggers. **  
> ****  
> I've put in some different ideas about djinn capabilities, as well as Seraph and Archangel abilities, but I've left out any explanations.  
>  Since I started this, I did add Site Tags to it, and you have my apologies if I've caused you problems. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read this. In no particular order, there are: rape, unconscious rape victim, male on male rape, drugging (djinn), kidnapping, trauma flashbacks, different ways of handling flashbacks, canon typical gore and violence, revenge torture, revenge killing, temporary major character death, and one of our OTP's is temporarily in question.  
> Please let me know how I can improve things. I love writing, and I've loved reading what everyone else has come up with! Amazing!  
> 

As always, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. Sigh.  
Chapter 1: An Angelic Explosion  
Dean sits on the sofa in an extended stay hotel room, drinking beer and watching his favorite re-runs. Again.  
‘Dean.’ Castiel stands in front of Dean, so he can’t see the television set. Dean rolls his eyes, takes a slug of his beer, and belches.  
‘Yeah, Cas?’  
‘Your behavior the last several months has been…. How do you humans say it?’ Castiel quirks a brief smile. ‘Surly. Your behavior the last several months has been rather surlier than usual.’ Castiel nods to himself, satisfied that he has correctly used human verbiage again.  
Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation.  
‘So what Cas?’  
Dean tips the beer up for another swig, and cursing when he finds it empty.  
‘Dammit!’ He hurls the empty bottle in the general direction of the trash can in the nearby mini kitchen. He grins when he hears the bottle clank against others in the can, and smirks up at Castiel.  
‘Make yourself useful, Cas, and get that perky ass over to the fridge and get me another beer.’  
Dean puts a hand on Cas’s hip and shoves sideways; Cas steps sideways.  
‘Besides that, you make a better door than you do a window.’ Cas shakes his head at this reference as he heads towards the fridge.  
‘Since I am obviously neither a door nor a window, Dean, I must assume there is another meaning to your words.’  
Dean sighs heavily, becoming engrossed in his re-runs again.  
‘And it has not escaped my notice that you complimented this body’s posterior. This comment would seem out of place with your generally surly attitude lately.’  
Cas retrieves a couple of beer bottles from the fridge, pops the cap on one and hands it to Dean as he sets the other one on the end table.  
‘Give it a rest already,’ Dean growls, pointing his beer around Cas and towards the television.  
‘I’m right in the middle of a show here.’  
Dean tips the bottle back and drains it in several gulps. He tosses the bottle accurately in the quickly filling trash can and slouches down on the sofa as he uncaps the other beer. His knee slides between Cas’s legs, and he swings it between Cas’s knees, punctuating each slurred word.  
‘Shove. Off. Cas, I’m. Tryina’. Get. Drunk.’  
Dean takes a long chug, lowers the bottle, and belches up at Cas; Cas’s face is unmoved.  
‘Dean, how much longer do you intend to deceive yourself about your feelings,' Cas whispers quietly, knowing Dean will fight tooth and nail before he admits to anything like a weakness or a feeling.  
Dean chokes on his beer, sets it on the end table, and surges to his feet, not even inches separating him from Cas.  
‘Lie to myself about what feelings, Cas?’  
Dean’s gaze is challenging and angry, but his gaze dips briefly down to Cas’s mouth for just an instant, and for that instant his face softens. Then anger takes hold again, and he snarls at Cas.  
‘You bein’ in love with me ain’t no concern a mine, Castiel. If I wanna lie to myself until the cows come home, that ain’t no concern of a junkless, brainless wonder like you,’ Dean growls, gripping Castiel by the shirt. Castiel allows himself to be flung back towards the sofa, but before he even hits the cushion, he blinks himself back behind Dean.  
Dean becomes deadly still, hands relaxed deceptively at his sides, his gaze hard and angry over his shoulder. Cas doesn’t lay an hand on him, but neither does he move back.  
‘Lay off, Cas, I’m warnin’ ya’. You’re pushin’ buttons you ain’t got no idea about.’  
Dean’s voice is an angry growl, barely discernible as speech.  
‘Why are you fighting, Dean?’ Cas’s voice is barely a whisper, and he almost seems to be speaking to himself.  
Dean explodes in front of Cas, whipping around and screaming in his face.  
‘What the mother fuck do you mean ‘why am I fighting?! Are you nuts, Cas, or just really really dense for a fucking angel?! I thought angels were supposed to be so much better than us, but that ain’t what I’ve seen from you, Cas. You’re fuckin’ useless, you know that?’  
Cas allows Dean to shove him backwards towards the opposite wall of the living room, each sentence punctuated with a shove, which Cas obliges with a silent step backwards.  
‘You fuckin’ lied to me, Cas! You lied to me and you left me! You left me, Cas! What the fuck am I supposed to do without you?’  
Cas steps back against the far wall of the living room, silent. Dean bunches up Cas’s shirt in his fists and tries to lift Cas – Cas just raises up on his toes.  
‘You…’  
Dean uses a fist full of bunched up shirt to punch Cas’s chest with each word.  
‘Lied. To. Me.’  
Dean meets Cas’s gaze, his eyes angry and too hurt for words, the words don’t say it well enough.  
‘Words fail to express the depth of human emotion. I’ve always thought the whales were so much better at expressing emotion,’ Cas observes, breaking Dean’s gaze and looking instead at the right shoulder where he knows his mark has burned Dean’s skin in the shape of a handprint. Dean’s eyes widen in anger.  
‘Whales, Cas?! Whales?! I’m about to rip you a literal new one, and you talk about whales?!’  
Cas smells the Angel Blade before Dean can pull it from the sheathe in the small of his back. Quicker than thought, Cas switches places with Dean, pinning Dean to the wall with his entire body. The Angel Blade tumbles harmlessly to the carpet, rolling a bit away. Before Dean can think to lift his arms in self-defense, Cas pins Dean’s arms to his sides, his hands on either side of Dean. Cas places his feet just on the outside of Dean’s, leaning into Dean so that their bodies are flush with each other from thigh to chest. There’s barely enough room for Dean to breathe.  
‘Cas…’  
Dean’s voice is dangerously low, and Dean is dangerously still.  
‘Cas, let me up now or so help me I will curse you out of that body for the next decade.’  
Cas remains unmoved, and Dean tries to kick and jerk unsuccessfully.  
‘Dammit Cas…’  
Dean’s voice grows louder with each word until he is shouting.  
‘Let. Me. The. Fuck. Up!!!!’  
Dean roars in Cas’s ear, but Cas remains unmoved against him. Cas has closed his eyes, and when he opens them, his gaze is unusually focused and intense. He looks into Dean’s eyes.  
‘Do not mistake my good nature for weakness, Dean.’  
Cas's wings spread as much as they can in the relative confines of the hotel room, the tips of his wings wiping things off the counters in the mini kitchen in the back of the room, brushing the window curtains at the front of the room. He allows a small amount of his true form to manifest in the space they occupy. It can be so difficult to limit his form to this frail human skin, when his true form is something closer to the size of the Chrysler Building, with four faces.  
Cas’s eyes begin to glow and the carpet begins to smolder under his feet. As a small amount of his power leeks back to him, some of the gravity of his true form concentrates in the small area of his presence. Plaster begins to crumble and cave in around his hands, and the cement foundation under his feet cracks ominously. Dean gulps audibly, his eyes now tightly closed against the light aura. Cas closes his eyes again, and lets the power bleed back into the place it came from.  
Dean recovers himself quickly, undeterred.  
‘Good nature?!’  
Dean shouts incredulously in Cas’s face.  
‘Good nature? You killed most of heaven and a good bit of earth, Cas, what the fuck is your good nature?!’  
Dean shakes his head, growling. He closes his eyes, and Cas can feel him gathering his energy, knows he will soon begin a chant to forcibly remove him from his host body.  
Cas should probably feel irritated, but for some reason he can’t summon the feeling. All he can think is that he appreciates Dean’s stubborn nature, even if it drives him crazy sometimes. He leans forward and sniffs the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean begins chanting under his breath, oblivious to Cas’s antics; he’s used to Cas doing weird stuff, and being completely oblivious to his personal space.  
‘Enough, Dean.’  
Cas puts his lips on Dean’s and kisses.  
Why did he decide to kiss Dean, instead of do something else?  
Why did it matter?  
All Cas could feel is the length of Dean’s hard body pressed against his own, his lips against Dean’s, the beer taste of Dean’s mouth.  
It felt so good to be this close to Dean, like waiting so long for something you want really badly, but aren’t really aware that you want until it happens.  
Dean is shocked into silence, then quickly begins returning Cas’s kiss with his own passion; Cas’s eyes widen in surprise.  
The endless parade of women through their hotel room did not prepare him for the possibility that Dean might kiss him back if he ever did this.  
Cas had fully expected a solid right hook.  
It never occurred to him Dean might kiss him back.  
Dean was kissing him back!  
Reluctantly, Cas pulls away, looking into Dean’s eyes.  
Dean’s eyes are confused – lust, hurt, loss, betrayal - painful to look into, but Cas looks anyway. After all, he put most of that hurt and pain and confusion there with his arrogance. It was far too late before he realized that God was indeed trying to tell him to stop trying to be a god – how could he have mistaken the opposition of a True Servant of God like Dean for anything but God’s own will expressed in his life? And why in the Heavens had it taken him so long to figure that out?  
‘I’m sorry, Dean.’  
Cas’s eyes are clear and regretful.  
Dean’s eyes begin to mist over, and he closes them for a moment as he shakes his head.  
‘Sorry ain’t gonna’ cut it this time, Cas,’ Dean opens his eyes, looking sorrowfully into Cas’s blue eyes.  
‘You lied to me,’ Dean whispers painfully.  
‘You. Left. Me.’  
The last statement is audible only to the angel standing next to him.  
Cas is cut to the quick by the raw emotion in Dean’s voice.  
It is then that he realizes he will follow Dean even into the pits of hell and beyond.  
Always.  
Dean’s soul is his heaven, he realizes with a shock.  
What does that mean for an angel? Did it really matter?  
‘I’m sorry, Dean.’  
Dean shakes his head again.  
‘You can’t say sorry for this, Cas. You can’t take yourself away like that again.’  
Dean growls his frustration.  
‘Dammit Cas! Don’t you get it? I’ve got so many people to protect, and I can’t do it without you, okay?’  
Dean’s next words are spoken so softly, the angel wonders if he heard words spoken by the heart and not the mouth.  
‘I need you.’  
Cas’s heart breaks for a moment, and Dean misses the single tear that finds its way down Cas’s cheek.  
‘I’m here, Dean. I’m here now.’  
Dean heaves a sigh – as large as he can manage while squashed between an angel and a hotel room wall – there’s a thought, he thinks wryly. He smirks sardonically up at Cas.  
‘Well, this is cozy and all, Cas, but do you really want Sam to find us like this?’  
Truth be told, Dean liked this arrangement on a very deep level, and found that disturbing. There had not been a whole lot of safe moments in his life, but any time he stood close to Cas, he felt that little flicker of safety that felt suspiciously like home. It shook him to the core to think that it could be taken away from him.  
‘Sam was told that he needed to go to a place of higher education and research our upcoming ‘job’ as you both refer to these cases,’ Cas quirked a smile at Dean, and Dean felt his pulse jump.  
Damn that stupid fucking junkless angel. Which come to think of it, didn't feel exactly junkless right now. Dean clamped down on that thought.  
‘Besides which Dean, I happen to know that you are not unappreciative of your current predicament,’ Cas raised an eyebrow suggestively, pressing himself into Dean's hips.  
Dean’s very human regions were showing great interest in what was happening. Strangely, Cas found his very gratifying, and it stoked the feeling building inside him.  
‘Yeah, you’re a real Romeo there Cas, talkin’ me to death. Why use one word when seven will do?’ Dean quips, looking away over Cas’s shoulder. There wasn’t much to see, though, as Cas’s wings were still spread over most of the hotel room.  
For the first time Cas returned from Purgatory, Dean really looked at Cas’s wings.  
‘Cas, what the hell, how long have your alula’s been broken? And you look like you’re molting? Should you be molting?’  
Dean’s hand had been unconsciously stroking Cas’s side under his shirt this whole time, and Cas lowered one arm and started to shift away reluctantly when Dean mentioned the pitiful state of his wings.  
‘Nonono, Cas, don’t go away, I just never realized your wings were so damaged.’  
Dean lifts his right hand from beneath Cas’s shirt and gently strokes his damaged wing, careful to avoid the broken alula.  
Cas closes his eyes and sighs in deep contentment, an absent smile on his face. Dean smirks.  
‘You like it when I touch your wings, Cas?’ Dean asked, almost shyly.  
Cas nods absently again, his face growing flushed. When he opens his eyes, they are heavy lidded and drowsy.  
If Dean didn’t know better, it almost looked like Cas was…. well, like Cas was getting turned on. Dean dismisses that thought with a snort. Angels didn’t get turned on, right? Especially not by something as mundane as having their wings petted. Cas’s eyes are heavy and seductive though, exactly like when he kissed that fool demon Meg in the hallway. An unfamiliar stirring of jealousy burned through Dean, and he stomped it down quickly. Cas probably had a boring, logical reason for playing tonsil hockey with Meg, and it would probably make him laugh when he heard it. Cas leaned forward and nuzzled the side of Dean’s neck. Frissons of excitement sped up and down Dean’s spine.  
‘Wow, Cas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like…. this,’ Dean stammers.  
Cas almost acts like he wants to….  
Dean shakes his head, refusing to finish that thought.  
Angels were genderless after all - right?  
All he was doing was stroking Cas’s wing, and not even in a very sensual way at that. Dean had to admit the feathers were a beautiful shimmering midnight blue – in places darkening to black.  
‘Your wings are beautiful, Cas.’  
‘Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me,’ Cas nearly glowed, his eyes filled with a sensuality Dean was not used to seeing there.  
‘Cas, I thought angels weren’t supposed to be… sexy,’ Dean observes carefully. ‘Why do you look… sexy… now?’  
‘Apparently my wings are very sensitive, Dean.’  
‘Really, Cas? Sensitive? Is this a…. a…. sex thing, Cas?’  
‘There is no human concept for what this is, Dean,’ Cas rattles off a short phrase in Enochian, his voice distracted and soft.  
‘There is no human equivalent.’  
‘Right. Well, that clears things up,’ Dean remarks sarcastically.  
Of course, Cas completely misses the point.  
‘I’m glad it does, Dean. I was worried you would not understand.’  
‘How can you live billions of years and not know how…. sensitive… your wings are,’ Dean’s voice is skeptical.  
‘You’re literally older than man, Cas, how can you be alive so long and not know that?’  
Cas tilts his head, fighting to consider Dean’s point through the growing haze. All he can think about is the feel of Dean’s hand on his wing, stroking and stroking. Dean’s calloused palms against his smooth feathers; the contrast was very…. pleasurable.  
Dean, what had Dean said?  
‘I do not know, Dean. There are whole sections of human history that I cannot recall.’  
Castiel resumes nibbling on Dean's neck. To be honest, Dean is finding it very difficult to concentrate.  
‘What, like you were on vacation at the time it happened I guess,’ Dean offers, still gently stroking the angel’s wing and growing increasingly turned on himself. Dean snorted to himself. He wasn't turned on by an angel.  
Cas moans quietly into the crook of Dean’s neck.  
‘Angels don’t go ‘on vacation’, Dean.’  
Cas’s face is mildly worried, but worry doesn’t stay in his mind for long.  
Dean – Dean!  
Dean was stroking his wings and adoring his wings, and Dean was so close, standing so close! Cas felt like the entire world smelled of aftershave and sweat and motor oil because Dean had changed the oil on the Impala earlier. Cas moaned again; Dean smelled so good! And his soul was quiet and content, Cas could feel it. Dean felt safe now, being close to him.  
Dean!  
Felt safe – with him!  
Dean’s soul fairly hummed with a quiet contentment, despite his words.  
‘Well, maybe you lost ‘em when you found your way out of Purgatory. I mean, look at the hash it made of your wings, Cas.’  
Dean continues to stroke Cas’s wing, watching his face. Cas was nuzzling in the crook of his neck, and it was very distracting and arousing.  
How can this not be a sex thing?  
‘How do you know about wings, Dean?’  
Cas’s voice is soft as he struggles to focus around the feeling building inside him. It feels so good to have Dean touch him this way, feels so right. And the fact that Dean made the effort to learn about him – Dean wanted to know more about him!  
‘I learned right after I met you Cas, of course. We all did; we all sat around Bobby’s place one weekend crammin’ our noggins full of information about wings and lore about angels.’  
‘I am very flattered, Dean. Thank you.’  
Cas’s face is flushed, his eyes heavy lidded as he leans back and gazes as Dean. There is so much unfamiliar feeling in Cas’s gaze that Dean actually squirms a little under his stare.  
‘Wow, Cas, you’re… uh… you’re really…'  
Dean clears his throat.  
'Are you okay?’  
‘Do you wish to stop now, Dean? Are you uncomfortable?’  
Cas’s voice is low and breathy; please don’t let Dean stop, please I can’t handle it if Dean stops.  
Dean looks around and laughs uncomfortably.  
‘What, am I some kind of virgin now, Cas? Really? Christ, I haven’t been a virgin in….. a really, really long time.’  
Dean chuckles again uncomfortably, but continues to gently stroke Cas’s wing, not unlike petting a dog.  
Cas’s face begins to glow, and his breathing becomes a series of erotic gasps. The feeling was building to a sort of peak of intensity, and if he lets it loose here, people would die.  
‘Dean, we have to go.’  
Dean hesitates a moment, taken aback by Cas’s sudden urgency. If they were having sex, he’d think Cas was about to…..  
Dean shakes his head again, dismissing the thought.  
Angels don’t have sex, and Cas said it wasn’t a sex thing.  
Before Dean can blink, they are in an open meadow area, in an uninhabited forestland.  
‘Where the fuck are we, Cas?’  
‘Mongolian. Steppes.’  
Cas’s breath comes in gasps, and Dean swears for all the world it sounds like he’s about to….  
Dean closes his eyes; why does he keep thinking that?  
‘Why, Cas?’  
‘Why. What,’ Cas gasps.  
‘Dean!’  
Dean’s name comes out as an unmistakably erotic moan; Cas mumbles in Enochian.  
‘Cas, why the fuck are we in the Mongolian Steppes, and not in the friggin’ hotel room?’  
‘Patience, Dean.’  
Cas closes his eyes and tilts his head back, moaning again. He grips Dean and pulls him closer, his wings folding tightly around them.  
‘Don’t stop, Dean. Please.’  
Whatever this feeling was, Cas needed to follow it, find out where it went.  
What was happening?  
Why had he never felt this way before?  
Would Dean be okay?  
Dean, he needed Dean so much, if Dean ever knew how badly he needed him, what would he do?  
Why did he need Dean so much?  
‘Okay Cas. It’s okay, I’m here.’  
Dean closes his eyes, unwittingly responding to Cas’s unspoken question, and continues to gently caress Cas’s wing.  
If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was like he was giving Cas a hand job, and Cas was about to….  
‘Well, fuck me, Cas, you old dog.’  
Dean laughs quietly.  
It was a sex thing after all, he was right.  
It isn’t sex, Cas thinks, it’s deeper than that.  
Whatever this feeling is, it has been filling him up, pushing like a tidal wave inside him, building and growing and demanding a release.  
Dean’s gentle laughter pushes Cas over the edge, and he lets out a primal yell in Enochian as a wave of power pulses out from him, and for a part of a second, he assumes his true form - over 1,000 feet of him, four faces, blinding glorious light, midnight black wings, full battle armor – all of it.  
For one split part of a second, he feels free and accepted and loved for who he is.  
Dean closes his eyes, pushes his head into Cas’s shoulder, and holds on for the ride.  
Whatever it is only lasts part of a second, at most.  
But for that part of a second, it feels like he has a hold of the Chrysler Building, if the Chrysler Building were a massive living being, and if that being was as hot as the sun, and if the sun were located in the Challenger Deep, and if the Challenger Deep were hot instead of cold. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had the world’s worst sunburn after this.  
He wants to open his eyes and look, to see Cas’s true form, but all those memories of melted eye sockets make sure his eyes stay tightly closed. He thinks maybe if he didn’t have a hold of Cas’s wing, he would be crushed under the weight all around him, burned alive by the heat and holiness surrounding him. Then it’s gone. He feels Cas’s chuckle rumble deep in a once-again human chest and raises his head up, eyes still tightly closed.  
‘You can open your eyes now, Dean.’  
Dean opens his eyes and looks around. The steppe grass and rolling hills are compressed, flattened, and burned for nearly a mile in every direction.  
‘Holy Hell, Cas! Did you do that?’  
‘Yes, Dean. I manifested my true form for only a millisecond or so. I’m actually very impressed that you survived it. I was afraid I would have to commit suicide after this.’  
Cas notes that Dean’s face looks sunburned, but other than that, he does not seem to have suffered any ill effects.  
‘Suicide my ass, Cas, you are not allowed to commit suicide!’ Dean looks around at the devastated landscape.  
‘Fuck me, Cas, that is some serious damage.’  
‘This is why we are discouraged from engaging in these activities.’  
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Dean replies, surveying the damage and shaking his head.  
‘Oh, and that officially qualifies as a 'hand job', Cas, by the way; just for your clarification.’  
Dean smirked up at Cas, then shook his head. 'Some would consider it sex, and some would not. Just depends on what former president you talk to, I guess.'  
Of course, his reference was completely lost on Cas.  
‘As a fictional character, I do not believe Sherlock Holmes would have shat, Dean.’  
Cas considers Dean’s point about hand jobs, whatever those were.  
‘I do not think I have experienced that before, Dean. But there are so many gaps in my memory, it is hard to tell.’  
Dean smiles, like the cat that got the canary.  
‘So I popped your cherry, eh, Cas?’  
‘Dean, I fail to see what tree fruit has to do with the experience we shared.’  
Cas is utterly confused again. There is so much to learn from Dean!  
‘Yeah, missin’ the point as usual, Cas,’ Dean laughs to himself; yep, Cas is himself again.  
Another frisson of excitement runs up and down his spine again, remembering the look of desire in Cas’s eyes. And he wasn't gonna' think about how great it felt to kiss Cas. He also wasn't gonna' think about what a phenomenal kisser Cas was. Nope. Not one little daydream.  
‘I seem to miss a lot of things.’  
‘You’ll pick up on it sooner or later.’  
Dean remembers how old Castiel is.  
‘Or maybe not; I’m sure you would have before now.’  
‘No one has bothered to try and teach me, Dean.’  
Cas’s face is folded in confusion.  
‘At least, I don’t think they have.’  
He grabs Dean by the waist, and in a blink they are back in the hotel room.  
‘Dean, why has no one bothered to try and teach me until now? I have lived billions of years and watched the rise and fall of many civilizations. Surely I would not forget someone who taught me about being human?’  
Cas’s face is still folded in confusion.  
‘I don’t know, Cas.’  
Dean sighs and retrieves a beer from the fridge. He finds himself wishing he smoked, and chuckles to himself.  
‘Are you sure it’s not just damage from escaping Purgatory?’  
‘Dean, that is exactly the problem. I am a fallen angel. I should not have been able to leave Purgatory,’ Cas whispers, and for a moment his face clears.  
Dean sits on the sofa and nearly drops his beer at Cas’s calm statement.  
‘The actual fuck, Cas, really? You couldn’t have come out with that earlier? Like, while we were in Purgatory?!’  
‘Would you have believed me, Dean?’  
Dean considers this and shrugs.  
‘You have a point there. No, I probably would not have believed you.’  
Cas steps over to the sofa and sits down.  
‘It would have taken another angel at least as powerful as me to pull me out. But why would I not remember that, Dean?’  
Dean glances uneasily over at Cas.  
‘Cas, the only answers I can come up with are ugly.’  
In a blink, Cas is gone.  



	2. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a near miss and some physical closeness. No really juicy stuff in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my rough draft, basically. I'm sure there are quite a few things to correct and inconsistencies to change. My apologies, and if you find them, please give me a shout out.  
> I actually didn't intend for this to be multi-chapter, it just seems to be turning out that way. I have no idea where this will go, and that's not good, right?  
> BTW, I do make mention of a threesome involving Dean, Castiel, and Sam, but it is in the sense of Sam not being very excited to participate in his brother's sex life. So apologies to those who are into WinCest or threesomes. I promise I'm not throwin' shade, it just made sense for Sam to say it that way. Please give me a way around it, if you think of it. We all deserve our fanfic worlds, eh?  
> Thanks for reading!

As always, Supernatural or its characters are not mine. Sigh.  
Remembering  
Dean sits in the small kitchen area of yet another extended stay hotel room, drinking coffee and thinking about pie.  
Sam sits on the sofa, surfing the internet and researching their next case.  
Dean stands up and goes to the counter to put the last slice of pie out of its lonely misery. In a blink Cas appears, sandwiching himself between Dean and the counter. Dean shakes his head.  
‘Figures you’d be the only angel stupid enough to get between a man and his pie, Cas.’  
Sam snorts at this and looks up briefly from his laptop.  
‘No, Dean, he just knows how to get your attention.’  
Dean shakes his head but doesn’t move away from Cas. It’s not like he likes standing next to Cas or anything.  
‘So what’s up, Cas? Cat got your tongue?’  
Dean shoves his hands in his pockets so he won’t be tempted to stroke the angel’s wings again. Not in front of Sam, anyway.  
‘Dean, why would I allow a cat to have my tongue?’  
Cas looks confused, as usual.  
Sam snorts again from the sofa.  
‘It’s just his way of asking what’s bothering you, Cas.’  
Cas nods at this, and looks Dean up and down.  
‘For some reason, I feel closer to you, Dean.’  
‘Well, you did squeeze yourself between me and pie, Cas,’ Dean remarks laconically, glancing over at said pie, lonely on the counter.  
What did Cas mean, ‘for some reason’? How could he forget? It was only a few weeks ago.  
‘Dean, why do I have a strong desire to… let you….. stroke my wings,’ Cas asks, his face a question mark.  
Dean’s eyebrows crawl up into his hairline. It was official – Cas didn’t remember. That was weird.  
Sam sucks in a breath and grabs his laptop, rising from the sofa.  
‘Hey, if you guys are doin’ the Watusi again, at least give me a chance to get the Hell outta’ Dodge first!’  
Dean puts his hand out towards Sam in a stop gesture.  
‘Don’t worry, Sam, nothin’s gonna’ happen right now.’  
Cas looks over at Sam, new concern on his face.  
‘Sam, you do remember that we are in Omaha, Nebraska, and not Dodge City, Kansas?’  
Sam chuckles and sits back down.  
‘Yeah, Cas. It’s a figure of speech. It means by all that’s holy please let me leave before you guys do the angel sex thing again.’  
Cas freezes.  
‘Angel sex thing? Again?’  
He turns to Dean, alarmed questions on his face.  
‘Dean, what happened? Why can I not remember something like that? I don’t think that is something I would forget. ‘  
Dean shakes his head again.  
‘Yeah, we talked about that, too. Your memory gaps, and how you didn’t think it was just damage from getting’ out of Purgatory, because as a fallen angel you shouldna’ been able to get out at all.’  
Cas’s face drains of color.  
‘I was sent to Purgatory? Dean, what did I do?’  
Cas’s voice is a strained whisper.  
Dean puts his hand out and rubs Cas’s shoulder. Cas needed a little reassuring, it’s not like he enjoyed touching Cas or anything.  
‘You didn’t do anything, Cas. You helped us put that asshole Leviathan Dick Roman back in Purgatory. When he went, he sorta’ sucked us in with him by accident.’  
Cas’s face falls. He remembers now… having all those souls inside him, the Leviathans ripping him apart from the inside. Dean’s face when he went through the Gateway without Cas – bereft.  
‘I remember being a foolish little god, Dean. I remember the burden I placed on you by doing that, how badly I hurt you when I betrayed you.’  
Cas looks at Dean earnestly, his face an open wound of regret.  
Dean’s face is carefully calm. Cas’s betrayal hurt more deeply than he cared to think about.  
‘It hurts to betray you, Dean. It hurts worse than an Angel Blade every time I manage to remember it.’  
Cas looks down, a single tear making its way down his cheek.  
Dean gasps, surprised. Something was definitely wrong with Cas.  
‘Well it serves you right, Cas. You shoulda listened to me in the first place,’ Dean mumbles gruffly.  
He gently reaches up and wipes the tear away. Cas leans into his hand for just a moment, then Dean comes back to himself and clears his throat.  
Sam has looked up from his laptop again, watching them.  
‘Um, if you guys are gonna’ have a moment, I really, manifestly, do not want to be here for it.’  
Sam looks down and starts to gather his laptop.  
‘I mean, I’m all into threesomes, just not the ones involving my brother. ‘  
He gags a little comically as he stands up.  
‘Simmer down, Sam. The fact that Cas can’t remember that delightful bit of history really freaks me out.’  
Dean looks down, reluctant.  
‘I really don’t wanna’ talk about it, though.’  
‘Is it something you are ashamed of, Dean?’  
Cas’s face drains of color again.  
‘Dean! Did I… violate you in any way?’  
Dean laughs at this and shakes his head.  
‘Cas, you idjit. No, you did not violate me.’  
Sam shakes his head from the sofa.  
‘Still not comfortable with this conversation,’ he sings sotto voce.  
Dean glances over.  
‘Sam, shut up.’  
Dean looks back at Cas, his face straight and sincere.  
‘I don’t think you are capable of violating me, Cas. And if you tried to, well, let’s just say I know how to use an Angel Blade.’  
Dean flashes a grim grin at Cas; Cas seems mollified by this and nods. Dean leans into Cas, and for a brief second, Cas thinks Dean is about to kiss him, then shakes his head at that thought. Why would Dean kiss him?  
Dean sees Cas shake his head.  
‘What is it now, Cas,’ Dean asks, opening the cabinet next to Cas’s head and getting a small plate out. He was going to rescue that pie; it wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore.  
He flashes a grin over at Cas. It would be easier if he moved away from Cas, but dammit, he wasn’t gonna’ move for anyone. Cas oughta’ be polite and move outta his way. And anyway, it’s not like he enjoyed standing so close to Cas or anything….  
‘Dean… for a brief moment I thought you were going to kiss me, and…. now I am disappointed,’ Cas observes drily.  
Sam looks up, alarmed at the tone of the conversation.  
‘Listen, guys, I’d love to find out what Cas doesn’t remember, but I really, really, really, don’t want a blow by blow of this.’  
Sam shakes his head and goes back to typing on his laptop.  
Dean smirks at Cas.  
‘Disappointed, huh?’  
Cas nods meekly, glancing down at Dean’s full mouth. He gulps audibly and turns his gaze resolutely forward. Cas had an overwhelming desire to have Dean stroke his wings, and kiss him and stand so close to him. He liked standing close to Dean. Dean smelled so good…  
And in a flash, the memory came back to him.  
Cas gasps and grabs a fistful of Dean’s shirt.  
Dean looks up, surprised.  
‘Eh, careful there, tiger.’  
‘Dean, I remember! I remember, Dean! I thought about how good you smell, and the memory came back.’  
Sam groans from the sofa.  
‘Really guys? Am I, like, in Hell again?’  
Sam stops typing on his laptop, and begins searching his pockets.  
‘Where are my earbuds?’  
Dean looks over at Cas, puts his hand over Cas’s where it grips his shirt. He wants Cas to rip the shirt off and…. Nope, ain’t goin’ there….  
‘I smell good, huh,’ Dean quips, all male bravado covering up the fact that he feels profoundly moved by Cas right now.  
Cas looks down, bashful. He can feel Dean’s soul, he can feel how content Dean is to stand close to him, to be with him.  
‘Yes, Dean. I remember.’  
Cas looks up through hooded eyes, his face downcast still.  
‘Thank you, Dean. I… I don’t think I’ve ever shared that with anyone before.’  
Cas looks down again, his hand flattened against Dean’s chest.  
‘I would do anything for you, Dean.’  
Sam shoots up from the sofa again, laptop in hand.  
‘And that’s my cue. I am so outta’ here. Call me when you’re smokin’ ciggies afterwards, guys.’  
Sam leaves the hotel room, mumbling about sex crazed angels.  
‘You really shouldn’t say that unless you mean it, Cas.’  
Dean’s eyes are heavy, and he struggles to maintain his composure. It’s not like he feels like being close to Cas right now…  
Cas looks Dean in the eyes. He pulls Dean by the shirt, pulling Dean against him, so Dean’s whole body is flush with his. Their faces aren’t even inches apart, and Cas seems mesmerized by Dean’s mouth.  
Tentatively, he brushes his lips against Deans.  
Dean grabs the back of Cas’s neck and kisses him back briefly and fiercely before pulling away.  
What the hell was he doing, kissing Cas?  
What was wrong with him?  
He just wanted to eat his pie in peace, really. He didn’t want to kiss Cas, or be close to him... Nope, not at all.  
‘What are you doin’ to me, Cas,’ Dean mutters quietly. He rests his forehead against the cabinet front next to Cas’s head. His hands have a mind of their own, finding their way under Cas’s shirt, tracing the many scars.  
What did it take to leave a scar on an angel?  
They healed themselves didn’t they?  
‘Where did you get these scars, Cas? Can’t you heal yourself?’  
Cas puts his arms around Dean, pulling him closer, if that were possible.  
‘I…. I do not know, Dean.’  
‘What in Heaven’s name does it take to scar an angel that badly,’ Dean mumbles to himself, lifting his head from its rest against the cabinet front.  
‘Cas, what the hell have they done to you?’  
Cas looks pale and forlorn.  
‘I do not know, Dean. I do not know.’  
‘Don’t leave, Cas. Please?’  
Dean whispers, almost to himself.  
‘I do not want to leave, Dean.’  
‘Why do you, then?’ Dean asks, suddenly exasperated.  
‘I have responsibilities, Dean.’  
Dean rolls his eyes.  
‘What about us, Cas? Aren’t we important?’  
Suddenly busy scraping the last piece of pie out of the pan, Dean glances casually over at Cas. It didn’t matter one little bit to him whether or not he was important to Cas... Nope, not one little bit.  
Cas cups Dean’s chin in his hand and gently turns his face towards him. A normally contrary Dean allows this because he doesn’t want to admit he likes it when Cas touches him.  
‘You are the most important person to me, Dean. But I cannot evade my responsibilities. I am sorry.’  
Dean shrugs, twisting his face out of Cas’s grasp.  
There were too many hopeless nights when he prayed – not with tears, it was dry eye! – and Cas never showed up.  
‘Why don’t you come when I call you, Cas?’  
Cas’s face is incredulous.  
‘Dean, I come every time you call! I have come to you in the midst of battle, Dean!’  
Cas’s voice is nearly a shout.  
Dean quietly shakes his head.  
‘No, Cas. Half the time you never come. Half the time I never know if you even hear me.’  
Dean’s voice is a whisper, reluctant. He really doesn’t like to talk about this; too much like begging to say how much he needs Cas. But if he’s going to get Sammy through this, he needs Cas. Cas’s face is devastated when Dean looks up; Dean is surprised.  
‘Dean, I….’  
Cas looks forward into some mysterious middle distance.  
‘Dean, I know this is no excuse, but do you realize that when another angel with more power and authority than me summons me, I go whether I want to or not?’  
Cas looks down, ashamed.  
‘I am not supposed to talk about such things with humans.’  
Cas looks over at Dean, reluctant to see his face. Dean’s face is surprised. Cas is more relieved than he wants to admit.  
‘And I cannot leave unless that angel either allows it, or I create enough of a distraction to escape.’  
Dean shakes his head.  
‘Listen to yourself, Cas. You sound like a prisoner, not a soldier.’  
Cas’s shoulders sag a little in relief. He had been afraid that Dean would not understand. He looks over at Dean, relief clear on his face.  
‘I am so glad you understa-‘  
In a blink, Cas is gone. Again.  



	3. Purpose and Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there's a real departure from character in this chapter, for Dean and Castiel. So if Castiel has been too different for you already, well, get ready for another degree of separation.  
> There's also some serious departure from the series, because.... Well, because it's my story and that's what I want. (sticks tongue out). Yeah, juvenile, I know.  
>  **TRIGGERS & TAGS: Oral sex between adult males, wing!kink, slight exhibitionism **  
> **  
> **  
> Oh, and there's actual oral sex in this one, completely consensual between adults though. And it's my first sex scene, so my apologies if it doesn't sound right. (blush) And the whole topCas/bottomDean starts to come in, so brace yourself if you like it the other way 'round.  
>  And there's a bit of exhibitionism, sort of, because Sam is asleep in the same room at the time.  
> 

As usual, I don't own Supernatural or the characters. Sigh.  
Purpose and Vision  
Castiel awoke strapped in a chair, slightly reclined; the room he was in was spare and cold, all glass and metal. His heart sank a little when he realized where he was – Naomi’s ‘Lab’. What could Naomi possibly want now? Hadn’t she taken enough of his memories already? And how could he recognize Naomi’s Lab and not remember anything else? Castiel wasn’t even sure who he was anymore, whether God had actually died – surely his Father wouldn’t just let all this stuff happen willy nilly. And how did he know a phrase like that?  
_‘Cas, are you there? It’s Dean again.’_  
Castiel looked around, trying to identify the voice he heard in his head. There was the background static of Angel Radio, then there was a rough male voice, different from all the rest. Something about it was extremely familiar and comforting… Castiel realized it felt like home to hear this voice in his head.  
_‘Cas, I’m really worried about you. You zapped out mid-sentence, and that ain’t like you, Cas. I think those angels are dickin’ around in your head again, Cas, and I just ain’t cool with that. You’ve done so much for us Cas…’_  
Here the voice in his head cascaded with emotion and memories, each hitting him like an Angel Blade to the heart. Two brothers, both pivotal in the fight against…. what? Monsters? Darkness? Lucifer?  
Dean’s memories bombarded him, all the prayers he’d sent to Cas, all the times they’d drank together and ridden around together, eating up the miles and the hours in quiet companionship. Over and over again he saw himself, fighting beside them, watching them eat, watching Dean sleep. Why did he watch Dean sleep? Was Dean the Righteous Man? What had Naomi done? How could he not remember any of this?  
_‘I’m sorry, Cas, but you gotta’ remember it all, not just the cozy parts. This Naomi ain’t doin’ you any favors. This is gonna’ hurt, Cas, I’m sorry.’_  
Castiel wondered briefly what Dean could possibly be referring to when the memory hit him. He was beating the living daylights out of Dean; he saw the memory from Dean’s perspective, feeling Dean’s concern and confusion at his actions. His own face was impassive, angelically implacable and immovable. He heard Dean’s pleas, saw his tortured face, and knew that he had done that at Naomi’s command. Dean was pleading with him, but not pleading for his own life – Dean was telling him that this behavior wasn’t who he was. How could Dean know who he was, and Castiel himself couldn’t?  
By the time Castiel watched himself drop the Angel Blade, tears were running down his face, and all he could think about was getting back to Dean and telling him how very sorry he was. He tried to blink out, but it didn’t work. Castiel looked down and realized the straps were warded against him.  
He was determined to get free, though he had no idea how much time he had until Naomi got back. Once Naomi got back, she would start in again, and he would forget Dean again. It was all starting to come back to him now, and all he could think about was getting back to Dean. Dean had warned him about Naomi, and said that he would fight Naomi if he was there, so Castiel focused with renewed attention on freeing himself from the warded cuffs.  
Naomi came back just as Castiel worked his way free of the cuffs and stood up. He wasn’t sure what was powering him, but Dean was the Righteous Man, and he opposed Naomi’s tactics. And anyway, Castiel figured if his Father didn’t approve, He wouldn’t have brought him back so quickly those other times, even if they were considered ‘punishment resurrections’ by the other angels. His Father had always told the humans that he ‘chastised those whom He loved,’ and though it seemed a little backwards to Castiel, he clung fiercely to it now. Father could have left him in The Empty like the others, but He hadn’t. And every time he had come back, he found he had more power and authority than the last time. Time and again his Father had brought him back, for the Winchester brothers.  
‘Castiel, I’m not letting you leave,’ Naomi stated implacably, her stance firm and calm as always.  
‘I’m not asking for your permission, Naomi,’ Castiel replied, swinging his hand out and using his Grace to send Naomi flying backwards through the doorway.  
‘I’m leaving, Naomi. You will never take my memories again, and you will not interfere with Dean or his brother.’  
With that, Castiel blinked himself out of Naomi’s office, zeroing in on Dean’s prayer.  
He found himself back in the familiar hotel room, standing between two beds. Dean was sitting on the far edge of a bed in front of him; his brother Sam slept peacefully in the other bed behind him. Dean sat facing away from Sam, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands knit together and supporting his bowed head.  
No words came from his mouth, but Castiel could hear his thoughts clearly, feel the emotions behind them. Dean was profoundly distraught, nearly frantic with worry actually, though none of it showed in his outward appearance.  
Castiel was surprised and moved to realize that Dean’s worry was all for him.  
_‘Cas, I really hope you can hear me. I can’t do this without you, man. You’ve gotta’ fight that Naomi bitch, she’s hurtin’ you, Cas, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it ‘cause I can’t go up there and fight her myself.’_  
Dean’s internal voice crackled with emotion on these last words, failure and the beginnings of hopelessness leaking from him. He was thinking that he was losing Cas, and he was thinking that he couldn't do all this without Cas there. The thoughts and feelings had the tone of being familiar to Dean, and Cas wept that he had apparently left Dean feeling like this on more than one occasion. Dean might fight him, but Castiel found that he couldn't just stand there and watch Dean suffer.  
Castiel couldn’t help himself. He rushed forward, making a wide circle around the end of the bed to stand in front of Dean. Surprising Dean Winchester could be deadly, even for him. He crouched in front of Dean, and Dean looked up from his prayers, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.  
‘Dean, I’m here. I did it, Dean. I freed myself from the warded cuffs on the chair in Naomi’s Lab and blinked out even though Naomi didn’t want me to.’  
Castiel felt foolish, like a little kid telling his crush about what he’d done.  
Dean’s face was skeptical.  
‘Cas? Is that really you, or am I hallucinating again?’  
Castiel reached out cupped Dean’s face in both his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. He loved the feel of Dean’s stubble under his palm. Dean reached up and grasped him by the wrists – not to pull his hands away, but to hold on, to make sure it was real.  
Both Winchester brothers were very touch oriented – with all the mental battles they faced, it was no wonder. Touch was their way of grounding themselves in the present moment. Castiel quietly obliged, allowing Dean to hang on to his wrists, his palms still cupping Dean’s face.  
‘I’m here, Dean.’  
Castiel spoke quietly, his wings folding forward to loosely embrace Dean.  
It was like a magic ward was lifted from Dean. The tears started spilling down his face, and his mouth contorted in a silent scream of anguish and anger and pain. No sound came out, no sound at all, even though his body was wracked over and over with huge, silent, wrenching sobs.  
Dean’s tears and anguish were eerily silent – long years of habit, long years of hiding his fear and anguish from his little brother as one more way of protecting him.  
Dean never relaxed his grip on Cas’s wrists through all of this. Dean’s grip was like a lifeline he clung to, tightening so much at times that Castiel knew if he were human his wrists would have shattered. Castiel let the tears wash over his hands, even though they burned tiny silver trails on his skin.  
Dean finally let go of Cas’s wrists, and Castiel took this as a sign that he could let go of Dean as he seemed to come back to himself. Castiel sat back a little as Dean used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face.  
He was on the verge of trying to reassure Dean about his vulnerable moment when Dean stood up abruptly, his crotch right in Cas’s face. He leered down at Cas, male bravado again covering Dean’s feelings of vulnerability.  
‘What, cat got your tongue, Cas?’  
Castiel shook his head wearily at Dean’s distraction tactic. He stood slowly, not moving even an inch away from Dean. As he rose to his feet, his body brushed heavily against Dean’s, forcing Dean to brace himself and Cas’s wings instinctively curled around behind him to bolster him.  
Castiel looked Dean in the eye for a long moment, his wings still curled tightly around both of them, pushing Dean into him.  
Castiel couldn’t help it, he cared so much about Dean that it hurt – it was a deep, aching need that clawed at him from the inside, like a weakened Leviathan. He took in Dean’s green eyes – still a little red from crying, and this stirred things inside Castiel he still didn’t completely understand. His gaze drifted down the hard, proud face to the full lips, just parted; Dean’s breath was coming in short little pants, he didn’t think Dean even realized it.  
Dean couldn’t look away from Cas’s eyes….  
God, why did You make his eyes so blue? Every time Dean looked up at the sky on a cloudless day, he thought of Cas’s eyes, of Castiel watching over him silently.  
Castiel, sitting in that chair beside his bed every night, watching him sleep. Coming awake after another nightmare to Castiel quietly holding him, mumbling Enochian until the nightmare left him and he found sleep again.  
It wasn’t sex, it was far more profound than that; it was safety.  
Cas was a safe place, a refuge.  
Dean unconsciously relaxed so that the pressure of Cas’s wings was all that was keeping him upright. Cas’s wings tightened even further around Dean, feathered arms holding him close and safe.  
Slowly, Castiel leaned in a little and brushed his lips against Dean’s; feathery light, a ghost of a touch, barely there. It felt like fire blazed through his body and soul though, burning some parts of his host body hotter than others. Dean latched on to his kiss like a drowning man, his hands gripping Cas’s shirt front. Cas’s hands again cupped Dean’s face, his smooth palms brushing the rough stubble on Dean’s chin. The tips of his fingers worked through the back of Dean’s hair.  
Cas’s wings were like a feathery steel wall behind Dean. Cas’s body by contrast warm and firm.  
Dean felt his hands drift down to Cas’s crotch, working through the material of his slacks to massage the rapidly growing bulge he felt. Cas’s human vessel was certainly… not lacking in proportional endowments, Dean thought, then stifled a school girl giggle. What the heck did it matter to him what Cas’s host body had?  
His strong fingers (thank you hours of working on Baby…) massaged Castiel deftly through the material, and in return he felt a gratifying (though also slightly terrifying) gasp from the angel. Cas’s hands worked their way through Dean’s hair as he growled incoherently in Enochian under his breath.  
Dean heard a command in Cas's tone as he mumbled in Enochian, followed by Cas shoving his head downward.  
Holy Cow! Cas wanted him to….  
Well, that was actually okay, and a little freaky, because he really wanted to, anyway…  
And no, it didn’t mean he was gay, he wasn’t gay, dammit….  
Dean mumbled something about the things he was willing to do for gay angels who had a crush on him as he ripped Cas’s shirt open, kissing down his scarred chest and stomach while feverishly unbuckling Cas’s belt. When Dean was finally able to work Cas’s slacks loose and they pooled around his ankles – he couldn’t believe the damn angel went commando! God did he not know about zippers, for crap’s sake?! – Cas’s rather generous endowment bobbed forward and Dean couldn’t help a gasp.  
‘Well holy fuck, Cas, there ain’t no way I can swallow all that, ya damn horse,’ he mumbled.  
‘You’re gonna have to settle for a hand job, cause ain’t no way that’s fittin’ anywhere…’  
He couldn’t help his curiousity, though, and telling himself Cas needed a little lube anyway, he knelt in front of Cas, and licked Cas from stem to stern first. Cas inhaled deeply and fisted his hand in Dean’s hair, mumbling more commands in Enochian that Dean had no way of understanding…  
Gingerly, he cupped Cas’s balls in one hand and took Cas’s head in his mouth and sucked a little, and was rewarded with a tightened grip on his hair and more Enochian. He swirled his tongue around the head a little and Cas’s hips started pumping before he seemed to catch himself. His tone was apologetic, even if Dean still didn’t understand Enochian.  
Dean’s other hand took a firm grip on the shaft and began a slow, leisurely pumping action. He could only comfortably fit the head in his mouth, and as he swirled his tongue around it, he felt Cas’s fingers gently exploring his jawline, feeling the places where he and Dean melted together, all the while mumbling reverently in Enochian.  
Dean’s rhythm picked up speed and soon he could feel Cas’s head begin to swell a little and knew Cas was close to orgasm. He gently released Cas’s balls and moved his hand up to put his fingers on Cas’s lips as a reminder to be silent. Dean felt Cas’s hands tighten in his hair as he felt the warm saltiness start to jet down the back of his throat. Dean felt rather than heard Cas’s rumbling moan.  
Before he even had a chance to think, Cas hauled him up by the hair, their bodies brushing as they stood close. Cas’s wings braced Dean’s back as Cas gripped him by the shoulders and leaned into him, smelling him. Cas sniffed and licked up Dean’s neck to his jawline. He paused and looked over at Dean, his gaze predatory and distinctly not angelic. Dean felt his knees go watery and his dick harden painfully as Cas leered at him.  
‘You smell like me, Dean.’  
Cas used one hand to grab the back of Dean’s head and pull him in for a kiss. Cas’s kiss was knee-knockingly aggressive, and when he growled into Dean’s mouth Dean thought he would come right there. Cas paused his kissing exploration of Dean’s mouth to mumble into it…  
‘You taste like me, Dean.’  
Cas leaned down and began kissing, biting, and sucking on Dean’s chest, a point not too far away from the anti-possession tattoo, in fact. Dean realized Cas was giving him a hickey, that Cas was marking him. Dean felt himself go weak in the knees again at this thought – what was he, some stupid teenage girl now? Cas’s arms were sure, though, and Cas kept him stable, braced against his wings. Dean couldn’t stand up on his own now if he needed to.  
‘Jesus fuck Cas, what the hell are you doin’ to me?’  
Cas’s left hand rose up and covered Dean’s mouth, pressing his head back against the wings. Dean didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, and now he was starting to leak, like a boy with his first porno mag. Why did that predatory look in Cas’s eyes get him so damn hot? Why did he feel like going along with whatever the hell Cas came up with? Where was all that defiance and stubbornness when he needed it?  
Castiel finished sucking a hickey on Dean’s chest, marking him, and briefly surveyed his handiwork, looking over at Dean again.  
Dean was utterly compliant in his arms – his soul was as still and content as he’d ever felt it. His eyes were soft and vulnerable – he could feel Dean’s submission in his bones. It beggared all possible belief, but there it was. Dean would fight like the nine hells to deny this moment hereafter, but Castiel knew now.  
Castiel surprised Dean by reaching his right hand into Dean’s boxers and taking firm hold of what he found there. The feel of Cas’s hand on him nearly sent Dean over the edge, but Cas barely shook his head. Cas didn’t want him to come yet. What the hell? Since when was it up to Cas? And since when did he fucking like that?!  
Dean felt Cas’s gaze on him and looked into his blue eyes.  
Yep. He was officially a goner.  
Whatever Cas wanted to do, he knew he’d pony up for it without hesitation. Oh, sure he’d have to make his objections sound good so nobody figured out how whipped he apparently was…  
Cas removed his hand from Dean’s mouth and replaced it with his own mouth, kissing him gently and sweetly.  
Dean realized he could kiss Cas forever.  
Well, on second thought maybe objections were overrated sometimes.  
Cas broke off the kiss and leaned forward to whisper in Dean’s ear, his right hand stroking Dean.  
‘You. Belong. To. Me.’ Cas whispered, and Dean came apart in his arms.  
Sam moaned a little in his sleep, rolling over.  
‘Dean, tell your girlfriend to be a little quieter, will ya’,’ he mumbled in his sleep. His words fell away to incoherent mutters as he fell back asleep.  
'Cas, what the hell did you do to me?'  
Dean's voice was a quiet whisper. Contrary to his question, his eyes held no fear or reluctance, just a quiet sort of awe. New sexual experiences were a definite novelty for Dean.  
'That's some serious angel mojo you got goin' on. You better be careful with that shit.'  
Dean looked up at Cas and smiled, some of his bravado returning. Cas smiled back.  



	4. Learning Curve, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning Curve SubSeries: Contains four chapters (4-8), with a dark arc to it starting in chapter six. Summary: Dean is more interested in a romantic relationship with Castiel than he is willing to admit, even though everyone around him seems to know it, including his younger brother. A new djinn-type is able to use this information to unfortunate effect.  
> This arc does contain: dubious consent due to drugs and false identity, male on male rape, revenge torture, and temporary major character death. You have my sincere apologies for bringing a dark arc into what was supposed to be 'feel good fluff'.  
>  **  
> **  
>  **Please watch the notes, there will be trigger & tag notices for each chapter. **  
> **  
> **  
>   
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGERS and TAGS, this chapter: Dubious consent due to drugs, and false identity. **  
> **  
> **  
>   
>   
> I'm sorry for not getting these out in a more orderly fashion. I'm currently working about four chapters ahead of what I've got out now, so no end in sight yet. I've never written an actual story before, so please let me know if I've hinted the wrong things, or left loose ends, or whatever else I"m undoubtedly doing wrong.

As usual, I don't own Supernatural, or any of the awesome characters. Sigh.  
Learning Curve, Part One  
_Castiel flung Dean to the mat for the umpteenth time that day. He straddled Dean, trapping his legs firmly between his own, and pinning his arms above his head._  
_Dean’s face was a mask of male bravado as he leered up at Castiel, but his soul was fairly quiet as was usual when they were in close proximity._  
_‘Dean, why do you insist on going through this? I have been fighting for longer than your species has inhabited the earth. Many of the fighting forms you are familiar with came from my garrison.’_  
_‘You may know it, Cas, but I don’t know it. And I gotta’ know whether or not I can count on you in a pinch.’_  
_Dean cocked an eyebrow, and Castiel huffed. They both knew his argument was all fluff and no stuff._  
_‘I believe I have already proven that many times over, Dean, even before you set up these little ‘training days’.’_  
_‘And you’re used to fightin’ with angel strength, Cas. What are you gonna’ do when ya ain’t got no juice, huh Cas?’_  
_Castiel let go of Dean and hopped up, pulling Dean up with him and moving him smoothly against the wall of the Bunker’s spare room before Dean could react. He pushed his entire body up against Dean, again pinning Dean’s arms over his head. Castiel leaned in close, his face not even an inch away from Dean’s. Dean’s breath was coming in short gasps again, and his pupils were blown despite the adequate light in the room. Castiel’s lips were so close to Dean’s he could feel the short puffs of breath over his lips._  
_‘I haven’t had to use angel strength for any of this, Dean. I’ve been running solely off of this body’s physical strength and my own knowledge.’_  
_Castiel brushed his lips against Dean’s, so lightly it almost wasn’t a touch. Dean stopped breathing._  
_‘I could have killed you many times over, Dean.’_  
_Castiel mumbled into Dean’s lips as he secured both Dean’s hand in a one-handed grip with his left hand and let his right hand slide down Dean’s side to cup his hip. His long fingers moved around to cup Dean’s ass, and squeezed. Dean gasped, breathing again. He jerked Dean’s hips into his own, pressing himself against Dean demandingly._  
_‘What do you want, Dean?’ Castiel whispered into Dean’s lips. ‘What do you want?’_  
  
Sam snapped his fingers at Dean.  
‘Dean, Earth to Dean, what did you want,’ Sam repeated for the thousandth time.  
God, what was up with his brother now? All he ever seemed to do was sit and stare into space, when he should be working out what kind of monsters they were up against, and how they could beat them.  
Dean shook his head and lowered it into his arms on the table. They had retreated to the Bunker, and Dean was seated at one of the main tables in the Vault. The table was covered in scattered papers and various items from their travels. He was glad for the table at the moment. He hadn’t woke up with wood this bad since he was….  
Well, since he was twelve or so. God, this was embarrassing. Daydreaming about Cas when he should be focused on their current job.  
He lifted his head and stared straight ahead. He was afraid that if he looked Sam in the eye, Sammy would be able to see his thoughts. And that would be humiliating; having Sammy see him go all moon-eyed over some stupid angel. Dean huffed.  
‘I’m gonna need you to run into town and see if the library has anything on djinn, Sammy. I know our library is probably better, but we really need to bone up on some of these guys. Maybe the public library will have different information than what we’ve seen.’  
‘So you think we’re up against djinn again, Dean? We know how to beat them, we’ve done it before.’  
Dean shook his head, irritated. He needed Sammy out of the Bunker. He needed to talk to Cas; he needed Cas. Dean shook his head again. He didn’t like needing people, it felt too helpless.  
‘I know that, Sammy. But we need to keep expanding our knowledge base. There might be somethin’ out there we haven’t figured out yet, okay? And you’re better at research than I am.’  
Dean smiled up at Sammy.  
‘Somethin’ about how your mind works just puts the right information together in ways it wouldn’t occur to me, that’s all.’  
Sammy smiled absently at this obvious fiction and knocked his knuckles on the tabletop.  
‘Okay, Dean, if you say so.’  
Sammy turned grabbed the Impala keys from a nearby table, as well as his backpack with its laptop from a chair. He jogged easily up the stairs and made his way towards the front entry area.  
‘If you see Cas, tell him I said hi,’ Sammy grinned knowingly and left.  
Well, shit, Dean thought. He really thought he’d been cool enough to hide things.  
‘Shit.’ Dean muttered.  
‘Did you call,’ Cas asked.  
Between one breath and the next he was standing behind Dean’s chair, his hands firmly on Dean’s shoulders. Dean instinctively reached up and grabbed Cas’s forearms.  
Was it him, or did they feel differently than they had in his daydream?  
‘Are you really here this time?’ Dean whispered.  
‘Yes, Dean, I am really here.’  
Cas grabbed a fistful of Dean’s short hair and pulled Dean’s head back, kissing him thoroughly.  
Abruptly, Dean broke off the kiss and pulled Castiel off balance, flipping Cas over his shoulder and onto his back on the tabletop. Papers scattered everywhere, and Dean pulled a knife from an ankle holder and put it against Castiel’s throat.  
‘You ain’t Cas, you son of a bitch,’ Dean growled. NotCas smirked.  
‘You got that from one li’l ole kiss? Well, don’t that tell all?’  
NotCas taunted Dean, his voice holding an unfamiliar Southern twang as he did a shoulder stand on the tabletop to wrap his legs around Dean’s shoulders and throw him off balance before hopping lightly from the table. The previously invisible tattoos on NotCas’s arms now glowed blue, and Dean cursed.  
Djinn. Dammit.  
The poison from the djinn's kiss began to take effect, and instead of fighting NotCas, Dean slid to the floor, arms scrabbling uselessly at the papers on the tabletop on the way down. Dean's knife clattered to the floor, and he was unconscious by the time his head hit the floor. The djinn picked him up easily with one hand, tossing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, easily navigating the stairs back to the Bunker's front entryway.  
It was a good thing he'd decided to drive into town and approach the Bunker as Castiel – he figured at the very least, the Winchester boys would have facial recognition software in the security cameras by now, and he didn't want to underestimate how far out they'd managed to place cameras. He smiled to himself – it was always nice to have confirmation that his mimic skills were so flawless.  
Making his way quickly out the front door, NotCas dumped Dean in the back seat, started the car, and sped down the driveway. He hated having to drive such a hideous car, but he knew it was the same make and model as the one Castiel sometimes used when he wasn’t blinking around like a freak. NotCas shook his head; he didn't have much time to get out of there before the angel showed up, no doubt called here by Dean's lustful thoughts.  
The djinn quirked a malicious smile at that thought as he sped away. He had no worries about Dean coming around anytime soon. He'd packed extra juice into the poison in his saliva with that kiss, altering the potency and chemical makeup just to make sure Dean stayed down for the count and lost in his pretty little dreams of Castiel. The djinn twisted another malicious smile and gunned the engine as he rounded a turn; in fact, Dean may never wake up again.  
As the djinn was racing down the road with Dean, Castiel blinked in to the Vault, right behind the now upended chair Dean had sat in. He took in the scattered papers, the knife on the floor, and the upended chair. He blinked into the entranceway, looked around, and took a deep breath. Castiel then blinked back to Dean's upended chair at the table in the Vault, and took another deep breath. The faint scent of djinn was there in both places, and a new variant of djinn poison still lingered.  
Castiel cursed in Enochian. The djinn had altered the poison’s makeup, increasing the potency as well as the sedative and hallucinatory side effects. Enochian curses filled the air again as he blinked quickly through the Bunker, knowing he would not find Dean. When he could not even find Sam’s ever present backpack, or the Impala keys, or the Impala out front, Castiel hauled out his cell phone.  
‘Yeah?’  
‘Sam, we have a problem.’  
‘What kind of problem? Where’s Dean?’  
‘Sam, Dean is the problem.’  
‘When is Dean not the problem, Cas?’  
‘Dean is gone, the Vault is a mess, and I smell djinn.’  
‘Well, shit…. I’m on my way back home. Dean sent me to do homework at the library, and I actually think I may have found something. See what you can find on the camera feed until I get there. Dean had them installed everywhere a while back; I thought he was being a little paranoid, but it looks like it’ll come in handy. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’  
Sam ended the call and Castiel pocketed his cell phone, heading for the Control Room. Once there, it took him a few minutes to find the relevant camera and wind back the footage. It looked like he’d only missed Dean by a quarter of an hour at the most. Castiel cursed in Enochian again and watched the footage.  
It looked as though Cas/djinn had blinked in behind Dean, kissed him, and then Dean had freaked out, flipping Cas/djinn over his shoulder onto the tabletop before the poison finally took effect. Cas smiled to himself; Dean knew his kiss. Why did that make him feel warm inside?  
The footage tracked the Cas/djinn as he slung Dean over his shoulder like so much meat and strode right up the stairs and out the front door. Castiel cursed again – the djinn had excellent mimic skills to be able to fool the facial recognition features of the security programs.  
Castiel was able to find footage of the front drive that showed a clear picture of the djinn’s vehicle, and even the tag number. Castiel grimaced; undoubtedly the tags would go to a stolen vehicle, and the vehicle that now showed up on the footage would probably be ditched somewhere fairly soon. Adding to the frustration was the fact that the djinn had been clever enough to use the same make and model that he himself was known to use, when he couldn’t ‘blink around’ as Dean put it.  
Castiel wasn’t even sure if they would stay local or not. His best guess was that they would not; Lebanon, Kansas, was a very small community, outsiders would stand out like a sore thumb around here. However, the djinn's ability to mimic others meant that they might be able to pass as locals for a while. Unfortunately, Lebanon was also centrally located to two Interstates and several favorably sized communities not too far away. Castiel shook his head, irritated. How were they going to track Dean and the djinn?  
Knowing that djinn tended to choose abandoned buildings for their nesting sites didn’t always make things easier. In the Midwestern United States, defunct economies meant that entire parts of towns could be abandoned. Castiel found a spare computer in the Control Room and went to work narrowing down possible djinn nesting sites in the area. It was a good thing they had all decided to track down the locations of known djinn nests after their last encounter.  



	5. Learning Curve, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning Curve SubSeries: Contains four chapters (4-8), with a dark arc to it starting in chapter six. Summary: Dean's in trouble, but Cas and Sam are on the case. Surely it won't be long before they find him. This is chapter does have some frottage, as well as continued dubious consent (djinn-drugged and false identity).  
>  _****_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Triggers and Tags, this chapter: frottage, wing!kink, dubious consent due to drugs and false identity. **  
> **  
> This chapter is where a little frottage comes in, and some definite wing!kink, as well as the dubious consent, because Dean is technically drugged with djinn poison and under the impression that he is being intimate with Cas, and not a djinn who looks like Cas. Thanks for reading!**

As ever, I do not own Supernatural or it's amazing characters. Sigh. Again.  
Learning Curve, Part Two  
_Dean’s face dripped sweat, and it ran in runnels down the center of his bare back. It was hot in the spare room they used as a gym, but Dean had refused to put AC in. He wasn’t a wimp. It didn’t help, though, that Castiel was unfazed by the heat. Despite the fact that he wasn’t sweating, he too had removed his shirt. His skin glistened a little, almost glittered in places, accentuating hard muscle tones and lean movements. Dean shook his head. He was really going soft in the head for Cas, thinking like that._  
_Cas and Dean circled each other on the mat. By this time they had tried many different fighting forms- Krav Maga, various martial arts forms, American Collegiate Wrestling, Greco-Roman Wrestling. Cas had proved efficient in all forms, which Dean supposed made sense. His garrison was tasked with observing humanity- it stood to reason that they would all be proficient fighters, unlike most angels. Dean didn’t know whether to feel betrayed or impressed that Cas had so successfully downplayed his ability._  
_Cas moved first, surprising Dean out of his reverie. His moves were so fast, Dean swore Cas was using his angel powers, if he didn’t also know Cas would never cheat. Before he knew it, he was on his back with Cas straddling his chest, his arms pinned to his side. Cas’s wings fanned out, their tips just brushing either wall of the spare room. Gently they fanned back and forth, creating a small breeze. The breeze felt wonderful to Dean._  
_‘I win. Again.’ Cas growled, leaning forward and placing both hands on the floor on either side of Dean’s head. ‘Do you even want to win, Dean?’_  
_Cas leaned in, his face inches away from Dean’s. Dean felt glad he’d been able to escape the djinn a few days ago, that had been a close call. But he couldn’t seem to remember how he’d done it. Didn’t that mean he might still be- abruptly, Cas leaned in and kissed him, soul searing and demanding. Dean lost his train of thought._  
_‘Less thought. More action,’ Cas growled again, his breath huffing warm over Dean’s lips._  
_‘You owe me again, Dean. How are you gonna pay up this time?’_  
_Dean leered up at Cas._  
_‘Oh, I can think of one or two things you might like.’_  
_Dean spread his hands over Cas’s bare chest and up to his wing, caressing the leading edge of Castiel’s wing. Cas froze and took a deep breath. Dean could feel Cas’s body responding to the stimulation. Dean grinned; it was the weirdest thing to him that Cas was so turned on by having his wings stroked. Dean continued to stroke Cas’s wing, unable to take his eyes off the mesmerizing feathers – the color was amazing. Cas’s wings were so full and beautiful, and the color was almost hypnotic. Such a beautiful midnight blue, fading into black in most places. Cas had told him once the black came from flying down into Hell to rescue him. Dean knew he should feel bad, but all he could think was that the color looked so amazingly beautiful, especially on Cas._  
_‘You need a minute to jet outta here, Cas, like last time?’_  
_Cas’s reply was slow in coming. His eyes were closed, and he was on all fours above Dean. Slowly he lowered himself so he was stretched out over Dean, but still supporting his own weight. Dean felt himself respond to Cas’s closeness, like he always did. Damn angel and his inability to understand personal space._  
_‘No, Dean, I can handle it,’ Cas growled in his ear, and Dean felt shivers run up and down his spine. He stopped for a moment, enjoying Cas’s closeness, Cas’s breath in his ear, coming in short pants now. He could tell exactly how excited Cas was, and it was making him hard, to be honest._  
_‘Dean, don’t stop, please,’ Cas’s growl was a little pleading, and Dean resumed his caressing of Cas’s wing._  
_Cas lifted himself a little on one hand and began to frantically unzip his pants, freeing himself. Dean managed to one-hand his own pants, but since he was in sweats, all he had to do was lift his ass off the floor and pull his sweats down a little. His cock rubbed against Cas’s and they both forgot to breathe for a minute. Seeing Cas so turned on really got to Dean in ways he didn’t really want to understand. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he’d do anything to-_  
_‘Dean!’ Cas cried out as he came, warmth spurting over Dean’s abdomen and up to his chest. Dean knew he would not be far behind. It seemed that when it came to Cas, he was more like a schoolboy than the experienced man he was, a little too quick to come himself._  
_Dean’s hand fisted around the leading edge of Cas’s wing as he came, quietly now. He wondered idly why it seemed to take so much out of him now. Every time Cas made him come, it felt like a little more of his life force leaked out. The irony of that made him chuckle._  
_‘You’re killin’ me, Cas,’ Dean mumbled, unable to stay awake now. ___  
_What was wrong with him? Usually getting his rocks off left him feeling some weird combination of calm and jazzed; why did it feel like every time he came lately, he died a little? Cas lifted him up gently and blinked him to his bedroom, lying beside him on the small twin bed. He felt rather than saw Cas’s smile. ___  
_‘It’s a good way to go, though, don’t ya’ think?’ Dean smiled at this and drifted away, idly wondering why Cas seemed to be experimenting with a soft Southern accent at times… ___  
\---------------------------  
‘Hey, Cas, havin’ any luck?’ Sam and Castiel were in the Control Room at the Bunker, researching local djinn populations, and waiting on word through the police scanners about the stolen vehicle they’d gotten off the video of the front drive.  
‘There are several possible locations we can investigate.’ Castiel replied, still focused on his research on the computer. As he worked on the computer, part of his mind was working through the chemical combinations in the poison he’d smelled. He was mentally working through possible antidotes, but it was difficult to do both at once.  
‘Sam, can you handle this research for now?’ Sam looked up, surprised.  
‘Sure, Cas, what’s up?’  
‘I’ve been mentally running through possible antidotes based on the chemicals I smelled in the lingering poison scent, but it would be quicker if I could devote my entire mind to the task, and have tools to test possible antidotes with.’  
Sam’s jaw literally dropped.  
‘Wow, Cas, I had no idea you could do that. Sure, no problem. Just let me know what you need if you can’t find it.’  
Sam just watched, stunned still, as Castiel got up and left the Control Room, heading for what passed as the Bunker’s little-used laboratory. Curiousity got the better of him, and Sam soon followed, watching as Cas made his way around the lab, cataloging ingredients and tools. At some point Cas found a pad and pen, and began writing down complex formulas in Enochian.  
‘Wow, Cas, I had no idea… I mean… It makes sense, I guess…’  
Cas didn’t look up from his writing.  
‘Are humans really not able to parse smells into individual chemical formulae?’  
‘Um, no Cas, we’re not. We can barely smell anything at all, and we can barely tell the basic identity of what we smell, at that.’ Cas looked up from his writing for a moment.  
‘That’s not surprising, I guess. I’ll never understand why Father limited your senses and dimensional awareness so greatly when he made you.’ Cas refocused his attention on his writing.  
Sam rapped his knuckles on the counter and pushed away from the counter, towards the door.  
‘Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything.’  
Cas didn’t give any indication of hearing him, and seemed so focused on his task that Sam didn’t want to disturb him anymore, so he left quietly, returning to his task at the computer in the Control Room.  
It was just over two days later before the call they were waiting for came in. Cas was alternating his attention between working on the formula for the antidote and searching local highways in and out of the Lebanon area. So far he’d managed to work his way west and south, with no signs of the djinn he’d detected in the Bunker, or the unique poison, or Dean.  
The authorities in Concordia had reported finding a vehicle with stolen tags, matching the description of the vehicle other authorities in Lebanon were keeping an eye out for, on the north bank of the Republican River. A fisherman had found it when he’d ventured out for his weekly fishing break. Sam reluctantly found Cas in the lab again. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door jamb before entering.  
‘Um, Cas?’  
‘Yes, Sam?’ Cas was deeply absorbed in his calculations, and didn’t bother to look up.  
‘Um, that stolen vehicle report we’ve been waiting on came over the police scanner. They found it on the north side of Concordia, on the north bank of the Republican River. I thought it would be best if you blinked over there? I know it’s been a couple of days, but if there are still any traces of them, it would help us nail down a direction. I’ll get the Impala ready to go, and meet you there, or you can find me on the way.’  
Cas finished an equation and looked up.  
‘Yes, that makes imminent sense, Sam. If there is a scent left, it will be extremely faint, but it is worth the effort expended. It shouldn’t take long for me to have a look around, see what we can find. Hopefully they haven’t moved the vehicle yet. I’ll find the Impala when I’m done.’  
Sam turned in the doorway to get his backpack, then thought of something and turned back around.  
‘Do you need the location, or can you just find the vehicle, wherever it’s at?’  
‘No, Sam, I don’t need the location, I can just picture the vehicle and go to wherever it is. Thank you.’  
With that, Cas blinked out of the lab, and Sam went to find his backpack and the Impala keys.  



	6. Learning Curve, Part Three:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning Curve SubSeries: Contains four chapters (4-8), with a dark arc to it starting in chapter six. This chapter has a rape scene at the end. I don’t describe the rape scene, and I never will. I lead up to it, and I give you the aftermath, and in future chapters there will be necessary references and flashback moments, but I will leave out the details. You have my apologies for not giving you a heads up sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings: male on male rape, violent rape, unconscious rape victim **  
> **  
> **  
>   
>   
> This chapter is really short, but intense. I ended up cutting a ton of dead weight out of it that didn't contribute to the story, and I haven't replaced it yet. So it might change, we'll see.  
>  The rape scene is only hinted at, but we do see the set-up in the mental illusion Dean is under. I’ve moved the scene to the end of the chapter, because I thought it might be too difficult to keep your attention afterwards. I’ll give you some space before I describe it, so you can skip it if you need to.

As usual, I don't own Supernatural or it's characters. Such is life.  
Learning Curve, Part Three  
  
Castiel blinked in to the area where the vehicle was found. The djinn had left it by the side of the road. They were on Highway 81, just north of the Republican River, on one of the little warren of trails on the north bank of the river. He blinked in closer to the vehicle, taking care to make sure he was invisible to the law enforcement officer on the scene. It was really a fluke that the car had been discovered. Castiel smiled to himself and thanked his Father, then shook off his thoughts and focused on finding the scent.  
He took a deep breath and parsed the smells he found. The river was disrupting his ability to detect the faint djinn scent he found, and he grimaced. So that was why the djinn traveled a little north of town. Castiel blinked into the vehicle and took another deep breath. He found the subtle sense of Dean’s aftershave mixed with the djinn poison he’d detected earlier, and Dean’s…… lust and longing, mixed with the djinn’s own peculiar scent. It was a disturbing combination, and Castiel set that aside.  
Castiel refocused himself and blinked to the roof of a motel on the north side of Concordia. He breathed deeply, sorting out the smells around him. The roof tar, the cooking smells – parsing the smells of different vehicles, he didn’t think the vehicle the djinn used had spent any time in this parking lot.  
Castiel thought about which direction to test first. He thought about the fact that the djinn had apparently headed east out of Lebanon towards Concordia. Would the djinn continue east? It seemed the most logical direction, since there was obviously no sign of them to the north.  
Castiel blinked himself over to the east side of Concordia, sticking to main highways like Kansas 9. He moved several miles east of the meat processing plant and took a deep breath, and was rewarded with the faint scent of djinn, and that peculiar poison he’d smelled on Dean. The djinn scent was so faint now that it almost made him think it was his imagination.  
Castiel wasted no time getting a bearing on the Impala and blinking into it. Sam seemed relatively unfazed to find Cas suddenly sitting shotgun as he rolled eastward, just passing through Randall.  
‘I have detected the vehicle’s path just east of Concordia on Kansas 9. Please head in that direction and I will endeavor to find you again soon.’  
Sam nodded solemnly.  
‘Thanks, Cas,’ Sam glanced over at Cas. ‘Would it be possible to put the antidote request out on Angel Radio, and let the angels work out an antidote for that toxin? I know you don’t like involving them, but they do have a vested interest in new djinn poisons, and developing antidotes.’  
Cas nodded at this.  
‘Thank you, Sam. I’ll put it out on Angel Radio, and see what they can come up with.’ Sam nodded, keeping his eyes on the road as Cas blinked out again.  
Castiel stood invisible on the side of the highway, and sent his message out broadband on Angel Radio. He didn’t explain why he needed the antidote; he just put the chemical equations out there, along with his research thus far. He felt fairly certain the other angels would be able to find an antidote; he just hoped it would be in time to save Dean.  
Castiel soon found himself on the north side of Manhattan, Kansas, just south of the Tuttle State Park. From here, Castiel was undecided about which way to go. He needed Sam’s input. Castiel blinked himself back to the Impala, now rolling relentlessly east on Kansas 9, between Clyde and Clifton.  
‘Make your way to the north side of Manhattan, Kansas, to the intersection of Kansas 13 and 24.’  
Castiel sighed regretfully, and Sam glanced over.  
‘I take you’ve lost the trail,’ Sam asked gently. Castiel nodded slowly.  
‘Yes, Sam. I have failed. I am having trouble finding the djinn scent due to the interference from Tuttle Creek Lake.’ Castiel turned a troubled face to Sam, and Sam glanced over briefly again.  
‘Manhattan, Kansas is a large population center of over 52,000. I do not think I can do this, Sam. I am afraid I will fail again, and Dean will die because of me.’  
Castiel didn’t know why he’d said that last part. It was his deepest fear, to fail Dean and for Dean to die as a result of his failure. Sam shook his head and refocused on the road.  
‘I believe in you, Castiel. And I know Dean does, too. You have come through for us more times than I can count. And you’ve come through for our friends too. Jody, Bobby, Garth… you’ve never let us down, Cas. You always do your best for us, and you always manage to find a way.’  
Sam glanced over, and gave Cas a brief pat on the shoulder before refocusing on the road again.  
‘You and Dean do have a deeper bond, it’s something I can’t explain, and I don’t understand. But I don’t have to, Cas. I know that if there’s a way to find him, you’ll find him, somehow.’ Sam shook his head. ‘You guys are just… connected. I don’t know how to say it.’  
Sam looked over at Cas again, full on puppy dog eyes.  
‘You’ll find him, Cas. I don’t doubt it.’  
>  
>  
>  
>  
>  
_Castiel had Dean pinned to the mat again. He seemed to like lying full against Dean, and their bodies were touching from ankle to chest. Dean was face down on the mat, and he could feel just how much Cas was enjoying this particular position._  
_Dean couldn’t remember anymore why he had been so uptight about not having sex with Cas. Cas was the one person – angel – he could trust over all others. He trusted Cas implicitly to take care of him and never hurt him, and to always be there for him. Dean couldn’t remember anymore what his reservations had been._  
_Dean felt Cas thrust against his ass, and couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation that went through him. He needed Cas, he needed to feel Cas, he didn’t want to hold out anymore. Wordlessly, he lifted himself a little and made quick work of his sweatpants, even though Cas was still on top of him. He could feel Cas unzipping those ever-present slacks, and the fact that he was still dressed turned Dean on a little. With a start, Dean remembered the lube was all the way back in the drawer of his nightstand._  
_‘Cas, dammit, the lube’s still in my nightstand. Maybe if you wink out….’_  
_‘Ah don’t need any lube, bruh. I think we’ll be jus’ fahn without it.’_  
_Dean startled at the foreign words coming from the familiar baritone voice and looked over his shoulder. Cas was not Cas anymore._  
_Cas now had sleeves of tattoos covering his forearms, glowing as blue as his palms. Gone was the dark bedhead hair, replaced by light colored crew cut. Cas’s face was still there, sort of… ___  
_Realization dawned, and when it did, the djinn laughed, low and cold. ___  
_The djinn. Shit. This had all been a dream, and he was still…._  
_Horror dawned, then the Hunter kicked on inside him. ___  
Dean fought like a madman in his mind. His body in the warehouse twitched and convulsed under the djinn, but Dean remained unconscious.  



	7. Learning Curve, The Final Equation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning Curve SubSeries, final part: Contains four chapters (4-8), with a dark arc to it starting in chapter six. Dean has been mentally and physically raped and is dying from the internal damage as well as the djinn poison, and the djinn feeding off his life force. Castiel is on the way, and boy is he pissed; pissed off seraphs are not a pretty sight.  
> This chapter is long and it's wicked and it's tough, especially if you are a Castiel girl like I am. Gods in heaven, Castiel goes to a very dark place, and does some very dark things, dears, for what happens to His Dean. Dean doesn't have a much better time of it, but he's been to Hell, TBH. I'm quite sure Alistair did not feed him milk and cookies while he was down there. It's still a horrific and horrible and painful thing to happen, though.  
>  **Triggers: male on male rape, rape scene aftermath, temporary major character death, revenge torture, revenge killing, mind invasion without permission **  
> ****  
>   
>   
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am playing around a bit with what a Seraph can actually do.  
> In this chapter there are: the after effects of the rape, the rapist playing a bit with Dean’s unconscious body, Dean being killed (temporarily), dear loyal Castiel losing out to the rage and pain and torturing the djinn, and eventually also invading his mind without regard for how it will affect the djinn.

As usual, Supernatural or its characters do not belong to me.  
Learning Curve: Final Equation (chapter 7)  
  


_Dean stood on shaky legs on the mat in the gym, watching NotCas warily. ___  
_How had he mistaken this brute for his Castiel? He felt himself bleeding from places….. ___  
_His mind stalled, refused to think any further. ___  
_He was helpless somewhere… ___  
_Again, his mind blanked out, but it couldn’t dampen the revulsion and violation and horror that threatened to tear him apart. ___  
_‘Whatsa’ matter, bruh, you still a little sore,’ NotCas growled, no longer hiding the soft Southern accent he now sported, or the tattoos sleeving his forearms and calves. ___  
_Even his appearance had changed subtly. He still looked a lot like Cas, but... ___  
_Dean shuddered; his body must be in a tremendous amount of pain from… ___  
_His mind stalled again, obstinately refusing the memory. He shuddered again. ___  
_It hadn’t really been Cas …. ___  
_Again his mind shut down, cutting him off from the trauma it was still suffering. ___  
_A shudder shook Dean’s entire body, and his arms unconsciously gripped each other across his chest. ___  
_How could he sweat so much when he was so cold? Why couldn’t he wake up? As he fell to the mat, he felt the rumble of NotCas’s low chuckle. ___  
_How could he have missed this for so long? How long had Cas been NotCas? ___  


  


Castiel and Sam were driving randomly around Manhattan, Kansas. Sam had stopped earlier to get something to eat on the road. After work traffic was starting to pick up, making navigating difficult. Sam was driving, and Castiel was doing his best to tune in to whatever Dean might be praying or feeling. He highly doubted Dean would be praying, if he was caught up in an illusion.  
Cas was thinking about Dean, about their last conversation, when he felt it. He could feel Dean’s violation and horror, and the physical pain. He nearly doubled over with the strength of it, but managed to keep his seat for Sam’s sake, his strong fingers gripping Baby’s dashboard so hard the plastic cracked. Still, his normally steady baritone came out in choked gasps.  
‘Sam…. I do not wish to alarm you……. I have singled out a………. location for Dean.’  
Sam was immediately concerned, and tried to pull the car over, but Cas waved him on.  
‘I take it that it’s pretty bad, then? He must be radiating hella pain for it to affect you that badly. Where is he at?’  
Cas doubled over, trying not to vomit all over Baby. God, it hurt.  
‘You….. are correct….. Sam. East……….. Kansas 24…… safely,’ Cas had to resort to speaking in choked breaths. If this was what the by-blows felt like, he couldn’t imagine finding Dean alive.  
Sam nodded grimly over at Cas as he continued.  
‘Industrial…………Park……….. Will…………leave sign. ’  
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’  
Cas was already gone.  


  


_Dean found himself beyond words. ___  
_Tears had long since dried on his face, cut and bruised from several long and futile fights with NotCas. ___  
_He assumed his injuries mirrored what had been done to his body. ___  
_He lay curled on the workout mat in the gym of the ‘NotBunker’ as he now thought of it, watching NotCas warily. ___  
_NotCas just stood there, watching him greedily. Dean huffed. He imagined he was giving off some pretty intense emotions for the djinn right now. ___  
_The tremors didn’t stop anymore, and it was all he could do to not bite his tongue._ _He didn’t want to think of what was coating his inner thighs, and his mind resolutely shied away from feeling anything below his waist._ _For all he knew, he was paralyzed in real life. ___  
_The sweat poured off of him, and his teeth chattered like an insane woodpecker. ___  
_Through it all, NotCas just watched, like a shark slowly circling dying prey. ___  
_Dean closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself awake yet again, and when he opened them, still in the gym of the NotBunker, he screamed. ___  
_Then he thought of Castiel – the real Castiel – and wept. NotCas smiled and waited. Not long now. ___  


__  


Castiel blinked into the industrial park invisible, and immediately went to his knees. Dean’s pain was incredibly intense this close, and he needed to be able to function. Feeling like a traitor, Castiel pushed most of the pain to the side, so he could tune in to Angel Radio. He needed the antidote before he went in. It wasn’t long before Castiel got an answer.  
‘Hello, Isidriel.’  
Castiel gingerly got to his feet. Isidriel nodded, his blond hair loose around his shoulders, and looked around the industrial park.  
‘There wasn’t much to add to the progress you’d made. You were nearly there. I assume you had to suspend your research because one of the Winchesters is in trouble again.’  
Isidriel’s tone was dry and disinterested, and Castiel fought down a snarl. Dean was in there dying, and Isidriel sounded like he could just stand there and watch it. He didn’t think he’d ever understand that. Despite his disgust, this was an old struggle. Despite his anger, Castiel’s voice was tired of re-hashing it.  
‘Yes, Isidriel. The Winchesters are my friends. Is that a problem?’  
Castiel’s gaze was carefully neutral. His body language told Isidriel otherwise. Castiel would strike him down without a second thought. It had been a mistake to trivialize the suffering of humans Castiel felt bonded to. Isidriel shook his head gently, his gaze and body language became subservient.  
‘Be at ease, brother Castiel. Unlike our brothers and sisters, I bear no active dislike of humanity. I am unable to understand your…. bond…. with them, but I know you are trying to follow our Father’s orders.’  
Isidriel looked up cautiously, his icy blue gaze carefully on Castiel. Isidriel slowly proffered the antidote beaker to Castiel. Castiel reached out and took the antidote, breathing a sigh of relief as he tucked it in his trenchcoat pocket. Isidriel smiled.  
‘I will endeavor to keep trying to understand humanity. I do find some aspects of Father’s world most interesting.’ Isidriel nodded towards the antidote, glanced up at Castiel, and blinked out. Castiel breathed another sigh of relief and looked around him.  
When Castiel again tuned in to Dean, the emotional and physical pain again took him down to his knees, this time weeping uncontrollably. Overhead, the sky began to darken and churn ominously as every lightbulb in every warehouse in the industrial park blew at once.  
Castiel had failed Dean. The djinn had…. Cas took a deep breath. The djinn had raped Dean, and brutally. While he looked like Castiel, probably, because that would create more intense emotions to feed off of.  
Castiel now had no idea how Dean would respond to his presence in the warehouse, or even if he would be conscious. Castiel braced himself, approached the warehouse doors, and blew them off their hinges. He couldn’t afford to wait for Sam, even if it further traumatized Dean to see him. If they waited, Dean could die, and if that happened, he had to find a way to stop Reaper Billie, and bring Dean back. Surely Sam would be able to find the only warehouse with its doors blown completely off the hinges.  


  


_NotCas leaned over Dean’s body in the empty warehouse, his eyes and hands now glowing blue. ___  
_He chuckled to himself as he fastened his pants. Dean was bleeding so much it was astounding he was still alive. ___  
_The man was tenacious, he gave him that. Dean had fought like the Devil himself before NotCas finally took him down. ___  
_The pain and the horror had been absolutely intense! Lust was so much sweeter, but when it turned, it was a vintage all its own. ___  
_Oh, he was going to miss this one. It had been really rushed, but sometimes rushing was necessary._  
_NotCas ran his hand down Dean’s form again, where it huddled in a fetal position on the cold farm table. ___  
_He savored the tart sourness of Dean’s horror as he pulled off more of Dean’s life force. NotCas shook his head regretfully. ___  
_He’d had to rush things quite a bit – he’d only had Dean for three or four days at most, and already he was at death’s door. ___  
_It had been a bit of a rush, but worth it to catch this one. A Winchester, he thought proudly. ___  
_He looked up as the door blow in. Ah, that would be the angel Castiel. __  
_

__

__  


‘Come on in, Castiel.’  
NotCas let his Southern drawl lengthen a little as he waved his arm expansively around the empty room. He frowned a little as he looked down at Dean’s naked, bleeding, unconscious form, then back up at Castiel.  
‘I’m afraid there ain’t enough to go around, though, dahlin’. This one’s jus’ about done in.’  
NotCas stepped forward around the table, arm now extended towards Castiel, his hand glowing blue. Before Castiel could step away, he snapped his fingers and a ring of holy fire appeared around Castiel.  
Castiel growled at the feel of the holy fire around him. He couldn’t cross the flames, but as a Seraph, he could still use his other abilities. He doubted the djinn knew he was now a Seraph, if he had made the mistake of using a ring of holy fire.  
Castiel smiled through his tears and anger, and it was not a pretty smile.  
The djinn paused.  
The angel did not look concerned. In fact, the angel looked….  
Wait.  
Was it an angel?  
The djinn swallowed convulsively, feeling fear for the first time in a long time.  
‘You know, holy fire isn’t worth shit against a Seraph, djinn.’  
Castiel’s voice was a low rumbling earthquake. He kept up a continuous subsonic growl, and the djinn could feel the edges of it causing tremors in the earth around him, making the glass in the windows quiver, and even making the air shimmer. Castiel’s growl intensified, and the concrete finally cracked wide open under his feet. When it did, the holy fire went out, and Castiel stepped over the ashes like he was stepping over the mess in a dirty room.  
The building and the earth it stood on continued to quake. Tears were streaming down Castiel’s face as his eyes glowed blue, and he doubted even Dean would be able to recognize him right now. He couldn’t help the growl that came from him, it ran through him like breath. Outside, Castiel heard the rumble of the Impala as it turned into the Industrial Park.  
The djinn flung blue fire over Castiel while he used his super speed to flit over to Dean’s body and snap his neck, sweeping a long dagger up from the table to cut Dean’s head off. Surely not even a Seraph could bring someone back from that. He completed the first long cut, slicing Dean’s throat under the chin from ear to ear, in a ghastly grin. He’d managed to nearly sever Dean’s head from his body with one stroke. Blood poured from Dean’s throat and ran in rivers onto the floor.  
Castiel cried out, his voice full of rage and pain as his eyes began to turn from blue to an ominous red. The djinn’s blue fire was extinguished with barely a thought as Castiel’s hand flew up, light glowing from his palm.  
Forgotten was the need to keep the djinn alive, so they could find its nest.  
Forgotten was the planning and strategy.  
All that existed was Dean’s broken, bleeding, and violated body, dead on the table.  
All that existed was a terrible need for retribution.  
The djinn must pay.  
The djinn must die, screaming.  
Castiel wrapped the djinn in a field of Grace and suspended time for the entire Industrial Park, Impala now included. The djinn screamed and struggled in vain, his tattoos flashing vainly with blue fire. Castiel didn’t say a word as he blinked himself and the djinn out to an alternate dimension, outside space and time as humans understood it. What he had to do would take time Dean did not have.  
Slowly, over the course of what would have been days in the human world, Castiel slowly stripped the djinn of every inch of skin on his body. Not one inch of skin remained on the djinn – anywhere. Even things approximating skin – like hair and nails – had been painfully disposed of. There was no place on the djinn that was not raw and oozing, especially his groin. The djinn’s voice had long ago become a hoarse imitation of itself, weak and without force.  
Castiel wasn’t sure how much longer the djinn would survive. He knew he needed to get back to Dean even though time did not pass in this dimension as it did on the human world. He would need all the power he had to bring Dean back and re-attach his head, much less re-bond his soul with his tortured body. Reluctantly, Castiel returned to the human world with the ruined djinn and let time move forward once more.  
The djinn didn’t stir. His skinless body was horrifying to look at, and lidless eyes stared at Castiel without hope, and in agony beyond experience. Castiel approached the djinn, suspended in midair by his Grace, and the djinn flinched.  
Castiel reached ruthlessly into his mind, casting aside the memories of his time with Dean, casting farther back into the djinn’s memory. The djinn’s mind was not made to withstand the brutal mental assault of a determined and vengeful Seraph. The nest, where was the nest? Castiel nearly roared when he found the memories of the nest. The djinn slumped in on itself, if that were possible suspended in midair. There was nothing left now. His brothers and sisters would die. He had betrayed them all, and for what?  
Castiel finally ripped the djinn’s throat out and tossed the body across the warehouse as he leaned back his head and roared. Castiel the Seraph roared his grief and rage and pain and revenge at the world. Around him, walls quivered and fell away as though made of toilet paper, the roof blew away as though sucked out by a tornado, windows shattered, and the earth created gaping fault lines in the concrete around him.  
Through it all, a little bubble remained unaffected for about ten feet around him, and well included in this was the wood farm table with its burden of bloody human. The Impala, too, seemed to be enshrouded in a bubble of protection. Debris and dirt rained down and bounced away just a few feet above the vehicle.  
Angel Radio fell silent. Cas’s roar stopped, but the subsonic growl was still there underneath everything, like a demonic purring cat. His command rolled out broadband, and everywhere in the world, every angel paused mid-motion.  
‘All djinn must die!!!!!’  
The djinn would soon be no more.  


  


_Dean felt the cold slab of wood underneath him. ___  
_Well, that was different. He figured the djinn must finally be dead somehow if his scenery had changed. ___  
_Dean sat up gingerly and looked around. It looked like he was in a warehouse room of some sort. ___  
_He could see his body on the wood farm table below, his body ravaged, his throat cut so deeply it was a wonder his head hadn’t fallen off already, and Dean grabbed convulsively at his throat. ___  
_He was covered in bruises and filth, and his mind still refused to consider the nature of any bodily damage below the waist. ___  
_He looked around and saw the djinn. It was little more than a pile of blood and meat in the corner of the warehouse room. ___  
_It was barely recognizable as having been a living being. ___  
_Part of Dean was gratified to see his tormentor thus tortured and killed, and another part of him horrified that Castiel had done that to another living being. ___  
_Dean looked over and could barely believe it was Castiel he was looking at._  
_Castiel was beyond rage, and beyond pain. Even ghostDean had felt the impact when he leaned back his head and roared. Dean couldn’t say yelled, because yelling was somehow a sentient act, and _Castiel did not seem very sentient right now.__  
_Dean didn’t know whether to cower in the corner, or pick up a dagger and try to fight Castiel. He knew Castiel had just given an order in Enochian, but he had no idea what it could be. He became aware of not being alone._  
_‘He just put out a ‘kill on sight order’ for all djinn, everywhere.’_  
_Billie shook her head sadly and moved toward Dean._  
_Dean nodded. He wasn’t feeling inclined to care too much about djinn at the moment._  
_Billie stepped closer, keeping a wary eye on the seraph, who was now watching her closely._  
_‘He’s in tremendous pain right now, honey. He knows what that djinn did to you – he sensed some of your pain, that’s how he found you.’ ___  
_Billie sighed. The Winchesters brought too much chaos._  
_‘What should I do?’_  
_Billie shrugged._  
_‘I’m not fighting a Seraph for the privilege of collecting your dumb ass.’ Billie didn’t tell him that God had expressly forbidden her to collect Castiel, too._  
_Dean slid off the table and moved to approach Castiel cautiously, like he would a wild animal. He’d never seen Castiel like this. Dean stopped and turned a questioning glance to Billie._  
_‘I’ve never seen him like this before.’ Dean hesitated. Why was he telling Billie these things?_  
_‘Because he loves you, Dean.’ ___  
_Billie shook her head. Dean’s face was skeptical as he glanced back to Castiel. Castiel kept up a continuous subsonic growl after the roar that had apparently brought the building down around their ears, and split the earth in two under them. Billie sighed. Dean assigned no value to his own life, and could not comprehend how much he meant to others. ___  
_‘Sam is here, Dean. You need to get Castiel to calm down before Sam gets out of the Impala. If Castiel can get his shit together, he can bring you back. But if he doesn’t, he might not recognize Sam in time to keep from killing him.’ ___  
_Dean nodded and turned back around, moving cautiously again towards Castiel. There was no way he was letting Sammy see his body like this. Castiel’s focus on him was laser-like and intimidating. Dean gulped. ___  
_‘Cas, it’s me Dean. You need to put me back together, Cas, okay? Before Sammy gets outta’ Baby and sees me like this. We don’t want Sammy to see me like this, do we?’ ___  
_Dean stopped in front of Castiel and tried to put his hand on Cas’s arm , but it went right through. ___  
_Damn bein’ a ghost. He watched Cas put things together and slowly come back to himself. ___  
_When he finally looked over at Dean’s ghost, he smiled – tremulous and horribly grim and tear stained, but it was a smile. ___  
_‘Let me get you patched up.’ ___  
_Dean floated back to the table and curled up in his body. ___  
_‘You must think about being alive, Dean. If you don’t, doing this will send you straight to the hereafter, whether Billie’s there or not.’ ___  
_Dean nodded and closed his eyes. _  
__

_____ _  


Castiel put a hand over Dean’s heart and his throat, and began mumbling in Enochian. Light poured from his hands and flashed out; time seemed to suspend itself, and when the light was gone, Dean was lying on the table, his throat whole, his head attached to his body, and his heart beating steadily, if weakly. There was still a disturbing amount of blood everywhere, but none of it was currently coming from Dean’s body.  
Castiel watched the soft rise and fall of Dean’s chest, and heaved a broken sigh of relief. He heard Sam slam the door of the Impala and make his way through the rubble of the blowdown warehouse, looking around. He took in all the blood, and saw Dean lying on the table, and blanched back a step.  
‘He’s alive, Sam. He’s alive. He’s lost a lot of blood, though, and I actually had to bring him back once already.’  
Sam took a deep breath and steadied himself, approaching the table. He reached out and brushed Dean’s forehead.  
‘He still feels so cold, are you sure he’s alive?’ Sam whispered. Cas nodded and patted Sam’s shoulder across the table.  
‘Yes. If he were dead, I would be talking to his ghost, and probably to Billie as well.’  
Sam looked up in alarm at the mention of the Reaper, Billie.  
‘Billie’s here? That means he’s not out of the woods yet, Cas!’  
‘No, Billie left already when I put his soul back in his body.’  
Sam’s eyes bugged out. Castiel took the antidote out of his pocket, offering it to Sam.  
‘Take this antidote and give it to Dean while I hold him up a little. He’s still unconscious.’  
Sam took the antidote from Castiel. It was wrong to see Dean so still on the table. Castiel carefully lifted Dean’s head as Sam poured the antidote in Dean’s mouth, taking care to make sure Dean swallowed instead of choking on it. Dean sighed heavily when Cas set his head back down on the table and Sam looked up, alarmed.  
‘He didn’t just die, did he?’  
Castiel watched Dean closely.  
‘No, Sam.’  
Castiel paused significantly and Sam looked up.  
‘Sam…. Your brother……’  
Castiel choked up, tears shining in his eyes. Sam’s eyes blanched wide and his face paled. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anything that could choke up Castiel.  
‘Sam, Dean is going to need a lot of help from you, and I may not be able to stay around.’  
Sam shook his head.  
‘Why Cas? Why would you leave Dean when he needs you most?’  
Cas hung his head, gently brushing Dean’s hair back from his forehead. When he looked up at Sammy, his face was contorted with the effort to restrain tears, his voice cracked and broken with effort.  
‘He was brutally raped, Sammy. And the djinn looked like me when he did it.’  
Castiel slumped to the floor next to the table, sobbing uncontrollably. Massive thunderstorms spun up in the already darkened sky, as if on fast forward. Black clouds strained the heavens and lightning flashed maniacally.  
Sam stood next to Dean, clutching Dean’s blood stained shoulder. He needed to clear his head and think. He was used to the angel or his older brother taking care of this stuff. He wasn’t aware of the weather change until thunder boomed and lightning cracked. He looked over at Castiel, sobbing on the floor, and wondered if the storms were a result of his emotional state. He stepped over to Castiel and gently tapped him on the shoulder.  
‘Cas, I need you to get it together. I think you’re causing unseasonable thunderstorms to spin up. We can’t drive in this. Is there any way you can, you know, stop the weather?’  
Castiel looked up, cocked his head, and looked sheepish a moment.  
‘I am sorry, Sam. You are correct, the storms are the result of my inability to control my grief. I am sorry. The worst of it should clear up momentarily, but it will probably still be stormy.’  
Castiel stood but seemed unable to make a decision.  
‘I want to help him, Sam, but I do not want to further traumatize him.’  
‘Well, he’s too damn big for me to carry, so put him in the back seat of Baby, and you can drive while I hold him. That way if he comes around, it’ll be my face he sees.’ 

  



	8. Aftermath, Part One: Picking Up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we start to have healing and hope. There is not as much first person from Dean’s POV as you might want, and for that I apologize. The chapter endings are a little arbitrary because I wrote it all in one piece from here to the end of chapter 13; so my apologies for abrupt chapter endings & unusual chapter lengths. There are also some time breaks I haven’t smoothed over, just used the dashed lines – pure laziness, I’m sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure how realistic my depictions of male rape recovery are, either mentally or physically in the next chapters. In many places I have relied heavily on three factors: First, on the djinn poison as an unknown quantity. Second, on the fact that Alistair most assuredly did not serve Dean milk and cookies in Hell. And last, I am also relying on the fact that the djinn looking like Castiel will cause fresh pain & (hopefully) new issues.  
>  **TRIGGERS: rape recovery, triggered rape victim (unconscious), nightmares, Major OTP is put in danger ******

As per usual, I don't own Supernatural or any of its amazing characters. Thus is life.  
  
Sam had to admit that Castiel had done everything he could to heal the worst of Dean’s wounds –in fact, he had nearly burned himself out just putting Dean’s head back onto his body, and fusing his soul. It had been all Castiel could do to carry Dean’s bleeding body to the car and then blink out to find Isidriel.  
Isidriel had sat in Baby’s back seat with Sam, Dean draped over both their laps, healing Dean as Castiel drove. They hadn’t even been sure that what was left of Dean’s body and soul could withstand ‘blinking around’ between dimensions, so they’d taken Baby back to the Bunker, with Isidriel doing his best to keep Dean from dying the whole way.  
Sam was glad Isidriel had been willing to help. It had been a couple of weeks since they’d found Dean, brought him back to life, and returned him to the Bunker. Even when things were touch and go, Sam hadn’t been sure about the wisdom of taking Dean to the hospital. There would have been too many questions about Dean’s injuries, too many questions about the mysterious poison he knew would not be on any government registries or in any hospital or government systems. He’d started to envision nightmares about CDC quarantines, and it hadn’t taken much arguing on anyone’s part to persuade him hospitals were not an option.  
Sam made his way down the hallway from the kitchen; he’d stepped out to make himself eat something. Isidriel had insisted on it, saying he wasn’t doing Dean any good passing out from hunger. Sam found himself smiling at the thought of the blond angel. He really did look like he stepped off the LOTR set, it was crazy. Every time Isidriel’s hair swung away from his ears, he half expected to see points to them. Sometimes Isidriel would briefly make his ears pointy, and Sam would gasp, and then Isidriel would let a tiny little smirk slip for just a moment, and he knew Isidriel was teasing him.  
Sam heard Dean whimpering as he neared the room, and his heart sank. It invariably meant that Castiel was lurking in the room. Even when he was invisible, Dean seemed to have an uncanny sense of Castiel’s presence. Before the kidnapping and assault, Sam had thought it was cute, sort of, even though he still couldn’t imagine his brother and Cas…. Jeez. Sam shook himself and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he approached the room. He stopped as he heard soft voices.  
‘Castiel, brother, you know you need to leave, for his sake.’  
Isidriel’s voice was quiet, reluctant to approach the other angel’s pain. Castiel let out a low baritone moan, barely audible, but Dean responded by starting to toss and turn in his sleep. Sam felt rather than saw Isidriel turn from Castiel and smooth his hand over Dean’s brow; somehow, Sam felt Dean go still, sleeping again. Sam felt Isidriel turn back toward Castiel and somehow knew Isidriel would see blue light gathering in the back of Castiel’s gaze.  
‘Brother, you know I am not meant for Dean. I was meant for another, you know this.’ Isidriel paused, his tenor voice shaky, and Sam knew it had been painful for Isidriel to mention that. He heard Castiel take in a sharp breath.  
‘Isidriel, I am sorry, brother. I-I don’t know what to do anymore.’  
Sam heard the rustle of a trenchcoat and the slipping of dress shoes over carpet as Castiel stood.  
‘I feel his pain, Isidriel, I feel it like it was my own, and I need to comfort him, but I only bring more pain.’  
Castiel’s voice was low, barely audible, and utterly miserable.  
It was enough to cause Dean to stir again, this time tossing and turning, about to awaken. Sam felt Castiel gather himself and blink out into the hallway. Castiel glanced over at Sam apologetically, tears coursing down his contorted face as the lights in the hallway blinked ominously, before finally blinking out to who knew where. Once Castiel was gone it was like Dean knew, and the room was quiet once more. Sam decided to let Isidriel handle things for a while. Truth be told, he hadn't realized how exhausted he was until Izzy had made him take a break. He headed for the den and collapsed on the sofa; soon he was asleep.  
Isidriel glanced up from his seat by Dean’s bed. He could feel Castiel’s pain and frustration clearly, even though he was technically over half a world away, most likely the Mongolian Steppes. His own place was here with Dean, though. His charge had been to support Castiel, but beyond that his orders had been unhelpfully vague.  
He’d thought it odd at first, to be yanked involuntarily back to their Place of Revelation, until he’d felt his Father’s presence in his mind. He’d nearly wept at hearing Him again. Father had simply told him that Castiel needed his help. At the time, he’d had no idea what that meant. Then a broken and nearly burned out Castiel had found him, asked him to help them heal Dean, and somehow he’d just known. He was meant to heal Dean so Castiel and Dean could be restored. Their relationship would never be the same, but Isidriel knew that Castiel was already walking a dangerous path in his grief.  
‘You’re a long damn way from New Zealand, elf. You do know they stopped shootin’ that Lord of the Rings bullshit years ago, right?’  
Dean’s voice was tired. Isidriel knew he was still in quite a bit of pain, in spite of the fact that it had been several weeks since his assault and recovery. It was a miracle he was even alive; Castiel had nearly burned himself out just reattaching Dean’s head and soul to his body. Isidriel just watched as Dean struggled to sit upright, succeeded partially, and flopped back, exhausted.  
‘Don’t bother about me, I’m fine,’ Dean’s voice was sarcastic; Isidriel lifted a white-blond eyebrow.  
‘You would not allow me to help the last three times you attempted this thus far today, not to mention the countless times this week; why would you start now?’ He glanced sardonically over at Dean. Dean grinned and tilted his head.  
‘You have a point there, elf.’  
Dean sighed and succeeded in getting himself generally sat up against the headboard.  
‘I have been known to be just a little stubborn at times.’  
Isidriel snorted at this, and for a moment they both laughed. Yeah. Dean was a little stubborn, and the sun was also a little star. Soon, Dean stopped laughing and winced, one hand going to the back of his neck and the other cradling his abdomen.  
‘Jesusfuck, elf, don’t do that.’ Isidriel snorted at this, too.  
‘I have done nothing, Dean. You exerted yourself too much. Again.’  
Dean sighed heavily and thunked his head against the headboard behind him in frustration.  
‘I sat up in bed, Izzy. I didn’t run a fucking marathon like Gigantor does.’  
Dean rolled his head away from Isidriel and crossed his arms over his chest. Isidriel had learned that when Dean called him elf, it meant he was feeling a little more like himself. If Dean lapsed into calling him Izzy, it meant he was in pain. It was the closest Dean ever got to asking for help, in spite of everything he’d been through.  
Gently, Isidriel raised his hand toward Dean and leaned over. His hand slid softly onto Dean’s shoulder and Dean twitched his shoulders up and away.  
‘I told you, no healing, Izzy.’  
‘I was just going to massage your shoulders, Dean. The muscles, nerves, and tendons are still healing where….’ Isidriel caught himself before he said Castiel’s name. Dean huffed and turned himself so Isidriel could massage his shoulders.  
‘Yeah, alright Izzy, do what ya’ gotta’ do.’ Dean’s hands fell to his sides on the bed as Isidriel knelt on the bed behind Dean. He gently massaged Dean’s shoulders, sending small healing pulses into the muscles around Dean’s neck as he kneaded. Dean shrugged when he felt it.  
‘No healing, Izzy,’ Dean’s words were gruff, but they held no force.  
‘I know, Dean. No healing,’ the lie rolled easily off Isidriel’s tongue now as he continued to send small healing pulses into Dean’s neck and shoulders.  
He hated lying, and until he’d had to start taking care of Dean, had seen no purpose to lies. Now he understood. Dean could not allow himself to depend on anyone, or to think he was depending on anyone. He had to maintain the fiction of doing this mainly on his own. But his body was still so badly damaged that healing was necessary; it was like Dean’s body and soul were still rejecting the idea of being alive, and the extra healing was the only thing keeping him here and moving towards wholeness.  
After a while, Dean sighed deeply.  
‘I’m tired, Izzy.’  
Isidriel nearly wept at the tone in Dean’s voice. He could feel the exhaustion, depression, and helplessness Dean felt. And underneath it all, he could feel the terror and the memories Dean kept carefully buried. Right now, it was taking most of Dean’s mental and emotional resources just to deal with the pain associated with healing from his injuries. Once he started getting up and around, the real battle would begin. Isidriel smoothed his hands along Dean’s shoulders, guiding him to lie down as he gently pushed him towards sleep. He brushed Dean’s shoulder and felt the Grace echo from Castiel’s handprint and swore to himself. Maybe Dean was already asleep and hadn’t felt it.  
‘My Cas would never…’ Dean mumbled to himself before dropping off to a troubled sleep.  
Isidriel subsided back to his chair and meditated while Dean slept.  



	9. Aftermath, Part Two: Still Picking Up Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is finally mobile – sort of. He has his first real flashback while awake – previous flashbacks have been at night. Sam helps Dean through his flashback, and there is a fundamental change in their relationship. No, not WinCest, sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I have been able to somewhat clarify the timeline for things – again, I am not sure if this is a realistic timeline for physical recovery. We also have our first flashback, and it gets ugly. Sam deals with Dean’s flashback by holding him loosely through it. I based that reaction on the fact that the brothers are clearly very touch oriented – I’ve always felt this was due to the many mental battles they face on a regular basis.  
> So I have chosen the path that Dean will be comforted by some loose restraint, but only from his brother. I have also used this to make a fundamental change in how the brothers relate to each other. Sam becomes a bit more of an equal with Dean here, and has the chance to repay Dean for all those times he helped Sammy through Cage Nightmares.  
>  **TRIGGERS: rape victim flashback, holding therapy for flashback, flashback allowed by caregivers in controlled environment (Vault), potentially inappropriate sexual teasing by rape victim (recipient isn't bothered) ******

I hate to keep saying this, but I must: I do not own Supernatural or its characters. Yeah, life is hard sometimes.  
  
‘I can get in the goddamned chair all by myself, you stupid elf!’  
Dean was frustrated with himself, so of course he took it out on Isidriel. Isidriel stood back obediently and held the wheelchair firm as he watched Dean struggle. If Dean had called him Izzy, he would have helped Dean out anyway, and let him cuss. It had only been a couple of weeks since the sitting up in bed incident, and that itself only just over a month since they’d found him.  
Dean had managed to scoot himself to the edge of the bed, his feet gingerly touching the floor, his hands gripping the bed beside him. He made himself sit up straighter and winced a little. He wasn’t a fucking sissy, he could do this himself. He didn’t need some stupid elf helping him. He took several quick breaths in and out and shoved off the bed, aiming himself for the wheelchair that sat next to the bed. Part of him hated the fact that he needed a stupid wheelchair, but at least it was a step up from being stuck in a fucking bed for the last eon.  
Isidriel thought Dean didn’t feel it when he used a little Grace to make sure his ass landed firmly in the seat, and not lopsided on the arm of the wheelchair where he’d been bound to land. That would have caused too much incidental physical damage, and the setback would have been dangerous for Dean mentally.  
‘Thanks, Izzy.’ Dean flipped a macho leer up at Isidriel. ‘It was still all me, though, are we straight on that?’  
Isidriel smirked and raised a sardonic eyebrow.  
‘Of course, Dean.’  
Dean had called him Izzy, but his tone had been firm, if exhausted. Dean unlocked the wheels and rolled himself out of the room. Isidriel gave him a little push with Grace, and Dean huffed.  
‘No pushing, elf!’  
‘I’m back here, Dean, how am I supposed to push you?’  
Isidriel’s tone was teasing; they both knew he was using Grace to ease this transition, because it was more important than Dean would let on that he be able to be mobile again. Dean just huffed and rolled himself down the hallway towards the Den. They’d decided the Den was a good place to go, even though it was a fairly long trip for his first time being mobile. At least when he got there, he could lie back on the sofa and find plenty of things to entertain himself with as he fell asleep.  
Dean lowered himself from the wheelchair to the sofa, and didn’t say a word when he felt Isidriel’s Grace easing him down. It felt damn good to get out of that damn room. He almost didn’t want to go back there. Maybe he could just camp out on the sofa for a few days.  
‘Hey, Bro, nice to see you finally got your lazy ass outa’ bed.’  
Sam’s voice was light and teasing as he entered the Den, but it really was good to see Dean up and around again after over a month in bed.  
‘Yeah, well, I can’t let you ruin my Netflix channel, now can I?’  
Sam sank into a recliner next to the sofa.  
‘Hey, what would I want with all your porno movies? A person can only watch The Kentucky Fried Movie so many times….’  
‘Hey, that movie was a cult classic! Don’t be knockin’ my movie choices, man.’ Dean shook his head, smiling. ‘No accountin’ for taste… kids these days don’t know what a good movie is,’ he muttered, glancing over at Sam playfully.  
‘Yeah, yeah, age before beauty, man,’ Sam flipped his long hair gloriously and Dean threw a small pillow at his face.  
‘Oh, don’t start nothin’ you can’t finish, old man.’  
Sam playfully, but gently, threw the little pillow back at Dean. Dean caught it and used it to prop his head up as he lay back against the arm of the sofa, folding his arms over his chest.  
‘Yeah, I don’t gotta start nothin’.’  
Sam huffed and smiled; he knew Dean was tired.  
‘Sure, old man; you tell yourself that,’ he said softly, but there was no heat in the words, only affection.  
‘Sure you don’t wanna play that Lord of the Rings shit again, Sammy?’ Dean’s voice was drowsy as he nestled into the sofa. The arm of the sofa didn’t support his back the right way, but he was too tired to ask for help. Somehow Isidriel knew, and was there with another small pillow, under the small of his back. Sam found the remote and started a LOTR marathon, even though Dean was already fast asleep.  
  
==================================================  
  
‘I’m not an old man, elf! I can damn well walk on my own, you goddamned stupid elf!’  
Dean paused on his way back across the Vault, leaning heavily on the one of the wing backed chairs in a small sitting area nestled near a column. Isidriel lounged casually against the far wall he was aiming for. It had been several weeks since Dean had first ventured out in the wheelchair. Isidriel’s blond eyebrow raised sardonically at Dean’s bravado.  
‘I have yet to see the proof that you are not an aged human, Dean.’  
Dean growled and pushed off the chair back. He winced as he straightened himself, sucked in a breath, and somehow made it, Frankenstein-like, on a diagonal over to where Isidriel lounged carefully now against the wall. He thunked his hand next to Isidriel’s shoulder on the wall. It was supposed to be a sort of angry, intimidating move, but they both knew Dean was about to collapse. Isidriel used his Grace to support Dean just a little, and Dean’s eyes closed briefly before flashing open again.  
‘I’m not a fucking baby, elf. Quit it.’  
Dean felt the Grace withdraw and sagged a little, bringing his other arm up against the wall on the other side of Isidriel to support himself. His head sagged forward, nearly resting on Isidriel’s left shoulder.  
‘If you do not wish my support, why are you so close?’  
‘Shut up, Izzy. I’m walkin’ here.’  
Dean’s voice was tired, and Isidriel could tell he was pushing beyond his limits. He’d called him Izzy, but somehow Isidriel felt it was necessary for Dean to complete this. Isidriel held his tongue as requested and merely waited. After a few moments, even he could see the tremors coursing through Dean’s arms and legs.  
‘Dean, you have already achieved your goal.’  
Isidriel’s voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to galvanize Dean. He pushed off the wall and made his way to where the wheelchair sat in the mouth of the hallway a few yards to Isidriel’s right. He sank gratefully into it, and didn’t complain when Isidriel had to use Grace to help him put his feet on the supports and started to push him forward.  
Tiredly, Dean reached down and locked the wheels.  
‘I’m not goin’ back to the room until I get there under my own power.’  
‘Dean,’ Isidriel started. Dean’s hand flashed up.  
‘I’m. Goin’. Back. On. My. Own. Period.’  
Dean was angry now, and unlocked the wheels, rolling himself out of the hallway and back into the Vault room. The hallway to the bedrooms was across the Vault, and it seemed to stretch like eternity in front of him. He wasn’t sure his body would obey him, but he had to do this.  
Isidriel felt Sam come up behind him in the mouth of the hallway. Sam had been in the kitchen, making a snack for when Dean was done. Sam started towards Dean, and Isidriel held his hand up, stopping him with a bare shake of his head.  
Sam had learned to trust Isidriel. Isidriel could sense emotional states, all angels could. And if Isidriel felt like Dean needed to do this, then he did. He trusted Isidriel to not let Dean get hurt too badly.  
Dean rolled forward a little more and locked the wheels resolutely. He turned his head over his shoulder.  
‘No Grace, Izzy. I gotta know, okay?’  
‘Of course, Dean.’ Isidriel’s soft tenor was strained. Sam glanced over, worried. Dean must really be pushing himself. Isidriel leaned over to Sam, his lips nearly brushing Sam’s ear as he whispered, his words barely audible.  
‘Brace yourself, Sam. Don’t be shocked at what happens.’  
Isidriel moved away, and Sam felt strangely cold for a moment. In the Vault, Dean had wheeled his chair halfway to the tables in the middle of the room. Sam realized he was going to end up walking right past the chair that had been upturned when he was kidnapped. He wondered if Dean realized; when he’d walked across the Vault room and back on previous occasions, he’d kept carefully away from that part of the Vault, seemingly without realizing it. Isidriel sucked in a breath and braced himself. Sam nodded to himself. That’s what it was, then.  
‘Why aren’t we stopping him?’ Sam gulped painfully. He didn’t want to see Dean hurt.  
‘He needs to make it under his own power, Sam.’  
‘But he’s gonna…’  
Isidriel’s hand was soft on Sam’s shoulder.  
‘Those memories will come at some point, Sam. They cannot be avoided.’  
Dean rose slowly and painfully from the wheelchair. He was going to make it back to his room, on his own. He wasn’t a goddamned baby. He walked forward, slowly and painfully, his legs exhausted and screaming, his guts churning with effort. Sweat poured from him and he reached out for a chair back as he passed the table. He glanced over at the papers strewn across the table, and suddenly, there he was.  
  
_Abruptly, Dean broke off the kiss and pulled Castiel off balance, flipping Cas over his shoulder and onto his back on the tabletop. Papers scattered everywhere, and Dean pulled a knife from an ankle holder and put it against Castiel’s throat._  
_‘You ain’t Cas, you son of a bitch,’ Dean growled. NotCas smirked._  
_‘You got that from one li’l ole kiss? Well, don’t that tell all?’_  
_NotCas taunted Dean, his voice holding an unfamiliar Southern twang as he did a shoulder stand on the tabletop to wrap his legs around Dean’s shoulders and throw him off balance before hopping lightly from the table. The previously invisible tattoos on NotCas’s arms now glowed blue, and Dean cursed. ___  
_Djinn. Dammit. ___  
_The poison from the djinn's kiss began to take effect, and instead of fighting NotCas, Dean slid to the floor, arms scrabbling uselessly at the papers on the tabletop on the way down. Dean's knife clattered to the floor, and he was unconscious by the time his head hit the floor._  
  
Dean didn’t realize he’d dropped to the floor until Isidriel and Sam were there beside him. Sam was sitting on the floor holding him and talking softly to him, and Isidriel was kneeling beside them watching, tears coursing down his face. Oh. Right. The damn angel could feel what he felt.  
Dean felt the sweat slicking his skin, and the cold feeling of dread sliding down his spine. He was back there, and it wasn’t Sam and Isidriel next to him in the Vault anymore; it was NotCas tormenting him again...  
  
_Cas was not Cas anymore. Cas now had sleeves of tattoos covering his forearms, glowing as blue as his palms. Gone was the dark bedhead hair, replaced by light colored crew cut. Cas’s face was still there, sort of… ___  
_Realization dawned, and when it did, the djinn laughed, low and cold._  
_The djinn. Shit. This had all been a dream, and he was still…. ___  
_Horror dawned, then the Hunter kicked on inside him. ___  
  
‘Nonononono!’ Dean sobbed the words out over and over, struggling in Sammy’s arms against something that wasn’t really there, but was still real nonetheless. Sammy held on tight, and Dean’s flashback raged on.  
  
_Dean stood on shaky legs on the mat in the gym, watching NotCas warily. How had he mistaken this brute for his Castiel? He felt himself bleeding from places….. His mind stalled, refused to finish the sentence or think any further._  
  
‘I won’t go back, I won’t go back!’ Dean gripped Sammy’s shoulder, panicked. ‘Don’t let him take me back, Sammy! He’s gonna take me back!’  
Dean subsided into tears finally, pushing his face into Sammy’s chest in a thoroughly uncharacteristic show of weakness.  
Sammy rubbed Dean’s back and murmured in his ear reassuringly as Isidriel used his Grace to blink both of them as they were into the Den onto the sofa. Somehow the bedroom, with its nightmares and restless nights, didn’t seem like the right place right now. Sammy curled his giant form around Dean protectively and his heart nearly broke when he felt Dean curl into him, still sobbing.  
Sammy wondered how many times had Dean been the one holding him? How many times had Dean felt his heart break listening to Sammy sob his heart out after another Cage nightmare? Sammy wondered briefly how Dean had managed it as his own eyes filled with tears that coursed down his cheeks.  
  
Dean woke up confused. He was lying on top of something gigantic and warm and uneven, and its breathing was slow and steady, asleep. Cautiously he opened his eyes. He was in the Den, and apparently sleeping on top of Sammy. How the nine hells had that happened?  
Without moving, Dean tried to remember, and cringed in on himself. He’d had a flashback when he’d seen the papers scattered on the table. He tried to remember exactly what happened, but his mind shied away from it unhelpfully. He must have been quite a mess if Sammy was holding him. He nearly cringed again, but stopped himself. He didn’t want Sammy to wake up, he didn’t want to talk about this. Sammy would never stop teasing him about this.  
‘Now why would I do that, Dean?’ Sammy’s voice was calm, and awake.  
Shit, Sammy was awake. Wait, what had he said? Was he talking out loud?  
‘No, you’re not talking out loud. It just doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you feel awkward about being vulnerable with your little brother.’  
Sammy’s eyes were still closed, and Dean was thankful for that.  
‘You never teased me about it, so why would I tease you?’  
Sammy cracked open one eye and lifted his head a little to look at Dean briefly before laying his head back down and closing his eye again. He was silent for a moment before he spoke again.  
‘No chick flick moments, remember?’  
Sammy quirked a smile and cracked an eye open again as he said this, glancing down at Dean. Dean grinned up at him and tweaked his nipple hard and Sammy bucked.  
‘Hey, don’t think I won’t hit a cripple, old man.’  
‘Cripple, who you callin’ cripple? I’m still good enough to kick your ass, you big puppy.’  
Dean laughed as Sammy dumped him unceremoniously on the floor in front of the sofa.  
‘Hey, take it easy on the cripple,’ Dean teased as he got up, slowly. His muscles felt stiff and sore, but it felt good to be able to get up under his own power. He didn’t notice when Sammy let out the breath he’d been holding as Dean stood up under his own power. Sammy huffed and slapped Dean playfully on the leg as he got up.  
‘Told ya’ I wasn’t afraid to hit a cripple, old man.’  
Dean headed out of the Den, slowly.  
‘Hey, where ya’ goin?’  
Sam stood in the Den and debated following Dean. Dean huffed and laughed back at Sammy, waggling his eyebrows.  
‘To the bathroom, Nurse Nancy. Wanna’ hold it for me?’  
Sammy’s face grimaced as he snorted.  
‘I think I’ll pass, thank you.’  
Dean slapped his own ass and laughed.  
‘What, this ass ain’t good enough for ya’?’  
Sammy guffawed.  
‘I prefer to NOT be related to who I fuck, thank you!’  
Dean waggled his eyebrows again as he opened the door.  
‘Your loss, puppy.’  
Sam’s laughter followed Dean down the hallway.  



	10. Tattered Wings, Part One: Putting the Pieces Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we have some more flashbacks, but not from a first person POV. Dean has his first real experience of being reminded of Castiel. He is uncharacteristically open about things, and I’m putting that down to his experience, and the fact that kidnap and rape will inevitably change a person in some ways. We also have Castiel’s reappearance, and the intervening two or three months have not been kind to him, though we will not hear that story for a few chapters yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is still not as much from Dean’s POV for this, and I apologize. I’m not sure of the healthiness or helpfulness of some of what Sam and Isidriel choose to do, but they are not perfect, so we will just have to deal with the ramifications of any misinformed decisions when the time comes. I’m still working with putting more of Dean’s POV in here, even if it isn’t first person.  
>  **TRIGGERS: reminders of Castiel, open discussion of Castiel as a possible trigger, major character is near death, possible canon typical gore (major character that is near death) ******

Sadly, I do not own Supernatural or its characters. It's a hard life, I know.  
  
Isidriel and Sam learned to keep papers off the main tables in the Vault area. For some reason, Dean’s trigger was not the presence of the tables themselves, but the papers scattered across them, as they had been when he’d been kidnapped. The chairs at the heads of either table disappeared, too, since that had been where Dean was sitting at the time the djinn snatched him. Dean gave no indication of noticing the absence of either.  
Dean still had flashbacks, mainly at night though. Since his physical recovery, he seemed to have trouble sleeping, and dreaming. He still found it terrifying to dream, and generally found it difficult to get to sleep.  
Sam had tried slipping him some sleeping pills one evening, after he had been up for nearly three days straight. That had been an unmitigated disaster. Dean had slept, and been unable to wake up from his dreams, because the sedative had knocked him out so deeply. His nightmares had been extensive and terrifying that night, mainly because he could not wake up. Sam and Isidriel vowed never to do that again, no matter how much difficulty Dean had sleeping. They had taken to just letting him fall asleep wherever he was, which was generally in front of the TV, watching a LOTR marathon for the millionth time. It seemed to bring him comfort to watch them.  
They also avoided mentioning Castiel’s name, even in casual conversation between themselves. They weren’t sure how close mentions of Castiel would be to reminding Dean about NotCas, as they now referred to the djinn. Dean seemed content to not bring Castiel up in conversation, and since there were no reminders lying around, it was an easy thing to avoid.  
Dean had taken to spending a lot of time working on Baby. Sam wasn’t sure what else there could possibly be to work on. He felt sure Dean had replaced every single part in and on the car at least twice. He was reluctant to interfere with Dean’s coping mechanism, though. It seemed like he always turned to Baby when he needed to work through things. Oddly enough, Sam and Isidriel both noticed he had yet to take Baby out for a spin. They both wondered if that was because Dean would have strong memories of riding with Cas, and perhaps wasn’t ready to face them yet.  
  
  
Dean was puttering around the Garage, trying to get up the energy to climb back up the stairs when he found them. A stack of huge three and four foot long Primary feathers, in varying shades of navy, midnight blue, and black, wrapped carefully in a cloth tarp and tucked into a corner bay in the back of the Garage. Dean sat down on the floor, back against the back wall, next to the stack of feathers. Gently, he unwrapped them, and could barely believe they had been Cas’s.  
The feathers looked like crap. They were dull, dry and brittle, and most of them had obvious stress bars running through them. Dean wondered how long Cas’s wings had looked like this. He wished Cas’s wings were always visible, but Cas had tried to explain once that it was actually very difficult to manifest his wings so humans could see and touch them. Dean held a three foot primary feather in his lap and ran his hand across the stress bar he saw there.  
‘Cas,’ he whispered. ‘What happened to you?’  
Isidriel had been surprised to go down into the Garage with a glass of sweet tea and find Dean against the back wall of one of the work bays, caressing Cas’s feathers. He perched himself on the low wall and set the tea down next to him. Dean seemed mesmerized by the feathers, and barely noticed him.  
‘You miss him?’ Isidriel offered softly. Dean seemed startled, and looked up.  
‘I don’t know, elf. I do, but every time I close my eyes, I see that damn djinn with Cas’s face and….’  
Dean’s voice petered out.  
‘And you don’t know who you will see, when you finally see Cas,’ Isidriel supplied, and Dean nodded.  
Dean looked up from the feathers, and his eyes were shining with tears.  
‘I know in my guts Cas would never in all eternity do that to me, Izzy. I know it.’ Dean’s voice faltered.  
‘How could I have not known, Izzy? How could I have not known that it was a predator masquerading as my Cas? How could I mistake that monster for My Cas?’ Tears rolled down Dean’s face as he looked up at Isidriel.  
‘The djinn was good at what he did, Dean. His mimicry was good enough to fool even the facial recognition software on the security cameras, Dean. He even used contacts to minimize the eyeshine that normally shows up.’  
Dean shook his head, refusing this.  
‘But, he’s My Cas, Isidriel! My Cas! I thought I would know My Cas backwards and forwards blind in an alley. And that goddamned djinn had me fooled for two days, Isidriel. For two days I thought….’  
Dean choked and couldn’t continue. It was too much to think about. He scrambled up blindly, wiping tears from his face and hauling himself up the stairs.  
‘I’m watchin’ LOTR again, you up for it?’ The bravado in Dean’s voice nearly faltered as he stood at the top of the steps. Isidriel sighed and got up, grabbing the untouched sweet tea.  
‘Of course, Dean.’  
  
  
It would be over a week before Dean got his answer about what happened to Cas.  
Sammy was the one that found him. At first, Sam almost missed him. Sam initially mistook him for a dirty pile of scrabbled branches and feathers. It was the curiousity of finding such a pile in a place where there were no trees which made Sam stop and take a closer look. What he found shocked him nearly speechless.  
It was Cas.  
Cas’s wings were nearly denuded of feathers, and Sam could see where many of them had been pulled out by force. Mud and blood smeared in an unholy mixture along the bare length of his wing, now reduced to mostly skin and bone.  
‘Oh my God, Cas!’  
Sam sank to his knees next to Cas, trying to feel for a pulse and wondering if angels even had a pulse. Silently he sent up a prayer to Isidriel, and hoped he could hear it. He’d never actually prayed to Izzy before.  
‘Isidriel, please hear me. I found Cas. It’s bad, Izzy; really, really bad. Make sure Dean doesn’t follow you. I’m about five miles in to my B Route, in a small clearing, right on the path.’  
It didn’t take Isidriel long to find Sam. Sam looked up at him awkwardly.  
‘I’ve never prayed to you before, Izzy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.’  
Isidriel looked down at Cas’s huddled form. It beggared his imagination that this could be the same Castiel he’d fought beside so many centuries ago. He closed his eyes and remembered Castiel in full battle gear, over a thousand feet tall, his four faces shining with God’s light, his wings spread proudly against the sky, beautiful shades of blue that caught his eyes in the heat of battle.  
‘He needs to go home, Sam. There’s no way we can heal him here on Earth. It will probably take centuries for this to heal properly.’  
Isidriel’s voice was soft as he sank down next to Sam, his hand gently ruffling the bedhead hair. Cas was curled in on himself, like he was trying to dig himself down into the Earth through sheer force of will.  
Sam shook his head firmly.  
‘He’s like this because of that goddamned djinn, and what it did to Dean, Izzy!’  
Sam roughly rolled Cas over onto his back. Cas’s eyes were tightly closed, as if there were something he could not bear to see.  
‘He needs Dean, dammit! Can’t you see it! You said yourself a couple of weeks ago that there was no reason for Cas’s wings to be in the sorry state they were in when he left! You said it! You said that since he had his own Grace back, his wings should have been fully restored!’ Sammy grabbed roughly at Cas, pulling him up and cradling him as he headed back to the Bunker. Isidriel stood resolutely in front of him.  
‘I have fought beside Castiel for centuries, Samuel! He is my brother! I would not see him perish because your brother cannot handle the sight of him again!’  
Isidriel’s eyes glowed blue, but Sam did not flinch.  
‘Then he will at least die cleanly, Izzy! Anything is better than this! If Dean rejects him, then he goes to the Big Empty, like the rest of his brothers and sisters, to a well-earned rest!’  
Isidriel slumped, and his eyes dimmed. He could not refute what Sam said. He knew the truth of it. It was not often that angels bonded so deeply with humans, but when they did, it rarely went well for the angel, especially when the human inevitably died. He just didn’t want to face the possibility of losing Castiel.  
He remembered then what his Father had told him. Support Castiel. Perhaps this too was part of the mission? To nurture Castiel through this, to help make sure that he survived whatever reaction Dean had to him? He held out his hands for Castiel’s body.  
‘Let me take him to a room on the other side of the Bunker, where Dean will be less likely to see him. I’ll get him cleaned up a little, and you talk to Dean and let him know we found Cas. It would be better if you talked to him anyway.’  
Sam seemed to have trouble trusting Isidriel’s change of heart.  
‘He’s my brother, Sam. Our Father gave me a mission to support him, and I believe now that this is what He had in mind. Castiel’s relationship with Dean is just as much a part of him as his wings. Please, Sam. Let me take care of my brother.’  
  



	11. Tattered Wings, Part Two: When the Pieces Don't Quite Fit Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we have the discovery of Castiel, and this is the first time Dean has seen Castiel since before he was kidnapped, unless you count the time he was a ghost. Dean also gets a little pissed off at Sam when he finds something out about Castiel, and we see a rare moment of Dean losing his temper on a poor defenseless tool chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have Dean meeting Cas for the first time since his kidnapping and rape, and he does have difficulty with it. We are seeing Dean’s POV on quite a bit of this, seeing how Castiel affects his recovery. We also see Dean have a bit of a chick flick moment and – gasp –openly discuss his experience a bit, and I am relying on both personality changes created by Dean’s previous experience in Hell, and on his concern for how this is affecting his little brother to excuse that. Yet more laziness from me, I know - sorry.  
> We also see, again, how the relationship between the brothers has changed. Sam’s touch becomes an important grounding force for Dean as he works through the emotional implications of seeing Castiel again. Here I have chosen to let Dean be ‘touch-grounded’ through his panic attacks; by ‘touch-grounded’, I mean reminded of his physical surroundings through a gentle unobtrusive skin to skin touch.  
>  **TRIGGER: major characters meet for first time since traumatic event, rape victim flashback, touch/grounding therapy through flashback by caregiver, rape victim loses his temper and destroys an inanimate object while caregiver observes, open discussion of rape trauma and Hell experience ******

I really have to keep saying it - Supernatural and it's characters are, sadly enough, not mine.  
  
Reluctantly, Sam nodded, and passed Castiel’s still form over to Isidriel. Isidriel blinked out, and Sam made his way slowly and thoughtfully back to the Bunker. It was too soon when he walked up to the open hanger door of the Garage wing. Dean was under Baby, as usual. Sam still thought there could not possibly be anything else to fix or clean on Baby. Softly, he cleared his throat.  
‘Hey, Samster, what’s up? How was your run? Beat your old time yet?’  
When there was no answer, Dean rolled out from under Baby, questions on his face.  
‘Samster? What’s up?’  
Dean sat up on the trolley and leaned against Baby’s bumper. Sam came over and sat down next to him. He was quiet for a long time.  
‘Samster, you’re startin’ to scare your big brother, here. What’s up?’  
Tension was in Dean’s voice, a million questions he wasn’t sure he really wanted to answers to.  
Sammy stared resolutely ahead.  
‘I-‘ he started, and cleared his throat. ‘I-I found Cas.’  
Dean’s eyebrows went up into his hairline.  
‘O-okay, and was he lost? I thought he put himself on permanent vacay to avoid dealing with my sissy ass.’  
Dean’s voice was forcefully light, and Sammy heard the ‘please don’t tell me this’ underneath it and winced.  
‘We haven’t heard from him in two months, Dean.’  
Dean threw down his shop cloth and jumped up from the trolley he had been sitting on, sending it rolling across the Garage.  
‘Two months!! Two fucking months! Jesus on a stick, Samwise, what the hell?! Why the ever loving fuckall didn’t you two dipshits say something?!’  
Sam winced again, still staring forward resolutely. Dean hadn’t started throwing punches yet, so it was going better than expected. So far.  
‘We didn’t want to push you too much.’  
As soon as it left his mouth, Sam knew it was the wrong thing to say, even if it was the truth. Dean had been very fragile mentally since he’d finally been able to get up and around. But Dean was never one to admit weakness. No chick flick moments, after all.  
‘I’m not a fucking baby to be pushed around in a fucking pram, Samwise! God dammit all to fucking hell, Sammy!’  
Dean grabbed the nearest red metal tool rack and pulled it over, kicking it with his steel toed work boots. The red metal screamed and dented as it screeched across the cement floor under the assault.  
‘God dammit! Aaaghh!!!’ Dean screamed at the top of his lungs and sank to his knees.  
‘I swear to God, Samwise, if Cas dies I will end every djinn on this earth with my own hands.’  
Sam cleared his throat.  
‘Cas gave the kill order when we found you, Dean. You might still be able to find a few stragglers, though.’  
Dean looked up, surprised.  
‘He what?’  
‘When Castiel found you, you were bloody and tortured and beaten and your head was nearly cut off in front of him, and he lost it. He tortured the djinn, Dean.’  
Sam’s face had gone white with the memory of it. He remembered a bloody pile of rags in the corner, and the horror that dawned when he realized that the bloody pile of rags actually used to be a living being.  
‘The djinn died hard, Dean - Hell Hard.’  
Dean slumped over where he sat, stunned. He couldn’t believe His Cas had done that. Now that he looked into the memory, he remembered a vague sense that there was what he’d thought to be a pile of bloody rags in the corner, but a pile of bloody rags didn’t make sense now that he thought of it. He realized his mind had changed the memory to something it could handle.  
‘Dear God, Sammy. What the hell has Cas been doing all this time?’  
Sammy shook his head.  
‘He patched you together – literally patched your head and soul back on, and that nearly burned him out, Dean. You were in such bad shape that Izzy and Cas were afraid that blinking you out would cause you to lose your soul’s fragile connection to your body. And Cas was afraid that-‘ Sammy paused, unsure whether to continue.  
Dean nodded.  
‘It’s okay, Sammy. I spent forty years in Hell, remember? It hurts like Hades because of Cas, but I lived through worse than that once. I’m sure as Hell not gonna’ let it stop me now.’  
Sammy nodded and continued.  
‘Cas was afraid that if you saw him when you came to, you would think you were still in the dream, or think he was the djinn. So he drove, while Izzy and I held you in the back seat, and Izzy spent the whole time healing the rest of you and trying to keep your soul attached to your body.’  
Dean huffed and shook his head.  
‘I don’t remember much about that. I remember having some delusion that Legolas from LOTR was sitting the back seat with my ass in his lap, and I wondered if I was suddenly crushing on Orlando Bloom.’  
Sam huffed and smiled.  
‘It took both of them healing you in shifts to get you past the worst of it. Though to be fair, most of it fell on Izzy, because you reacted so badly to Castiel.’ Sam’s voice was apologetic and he glanced over at Dean for the first time. Dean nodded.  
‘I remember being in and out of pain and fever dreams and every time I heard that baritone voice, or felt Cas’s presence, it was like I was feeling that god damned djinn again. It was like, at first I couldn’t tell the difference between him and the djinn.’  
Dean shook his head.  
‘It must have been some leftover effect of the poison. Because now Sammy, I don’t know how on earth I ever mistook that Goddamn son of a bitch for My Cas!’  
Dean pounded his fist into the nearby metal tool chest, now off its rollers and listed on the floor nearby, doors akimbo. Dean pounded it and pounded it, and Sammy just watched. He knew Dean needed to express this. He so rarely allowed himself these moments.  
‘He was My Cas, Samwise! My Cas! How could I have ever thought that monster was anything like My Cas!? What the fuck did that son of a bitch do to My Cas?!’  
Sammy felt Izzy in his head then, letting him know he had Castiel cleaned up and settled sufficiently so as not to alarm Dean too much if they came to see him. Izzy let him see a glimpse of Cas, and Sam had to struggle to keep his face straight. Cas looked like a dead body on display, but his wings were out of sight. Izzy must have felt Sam’s alarm, because he saw Izzy’s arm lift, and then what was left of Cas’s wings showed, wrapped mercifully in gauze. Sam thought Izzy should leave the wings visible, and Izzy seemed to agree, because the wings remained visible. Sammy cleared his throat.  
‘I can take you to him, if you think you’re ready to see him?’  
Sam scrambled to his feet and walked over to Dean, offering his hand. He gave Dean a hand up, and together they moved toward the Garage stairs. They walked down the hallway to where Cas was, both silent and apprehensive. Sam was not sure how Dean would react to seeing Cas, and Dean was not sure how he would react to seeing Cas, either.  
They reached the door, and Izzy opened it, slowly. Dean decided now was a good time to study what damage he might have caused to his steel toed boots. Sam stepped into the room first, and waited for Dean to follow when he was ready. Sammy walked over to where Cas lay on the bed, his wings now thankfully wrapped in gauze and visible. Cas’s face was still contorted in pain, his eyes still screwed shut against something he couldn’t bear to see.  
Dean approached the bed reluctantly, still looking down at his boots. Cas and the bed were visible out of the corner of his eye. He nearly backed out of the room. He couldn’t believe that was Cas. It was like he was dead, but he couldn’t be dead, or surely Izzy and Sam would have said something. Dean looked questioningly over at Sam, apprehension and dread clear on his face. He still hadn’t looked squarely at Cas, or the bed.  
‘Izzy says he’s still alive, but barely.’ Sam’s voice was quiet where he stood against the wall.  
Dean sucked in a deep breath and approached the bed, still focused on his boots, and closed his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to Cas. He fumbled one of Cas’s hands in his own and let himself open his eyes, only looking at Cas’s hand.  
Cas’s hand looked skeletal, and almost not his own. Dean took another deep breath and held on to Cas’s hand even though he felt the panic rising as his breathing became too quick and too fast, his heart hammering out of his chest. He felt Sammy move over to him, and put a hand on the back of his neck, skin to skin, where he could feel it.  
Dean felt himself relax a little, being grounded this way. He focused on the feel of Sammy’s gigantor hand on the back of his neck, and just held on to Cas’s hand. He couldn’t handle the thought of looking up at Cas’s face yet. He was afraid of what he would see. He was afraid he was failing Cas by not being able to look.  
‘It’s okay, Dean. It’s a lot that you’re even here, you know?’  
Sammy ‘s voice was soft, his hand warm on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean took a deep breath.  
‘He probably doesn’t even know I’m here, anyway.’ Dean started to stand up and felt Cas’s hand tighten over his own. Dean gasped, and started to panic again as he sat back down reluctantly. Sam’s hand shifted on his neck, reminding him that he was not alone, and Dean took another deep breath.  
‘It’s okay, Dean. It’s a good sign that he recognizes it’s you. That’s actually the first time he’s moved since we found him.’  
‘Sammy-‘ Dean started and felt like a stupid kid again. Then he remembered waking up on top of Sammy in the Den, Sammy holding him through his flashback.  
‘Sammy, I can’t look at him. I can’t. What if he doesn’t look like Cas, Sammy?’  
Sammy’s hand shifted again against Dean’s neck, squeezing gently. When he answered Dean, his voice was subdued and factual.  
‘He looks really thin, Dean; I mean, shockingly thin and pale, even with a full beard. And his eyes are squeezed shut, like he was trying not to look at something.’  
Dean nodded his head and took a deep breath.  
He lifted his eyes and managed to look at Cas.  
He almost wished he hadn’t. Cas’s face was all bunched up, and his eyes were shut tight. Instinctively Dean leaned forward and stroked the beard on the gaunt pale face. He felt Sammy lean forward with him, maintaining his grounding touch. He nearly yelped when Cas’s face relaxed into sleep, and a deep sigh escaped the still form.  
Dean heard Isidriel rustle from his place near the door.  
‘It’s okay, Dean. He’s not dead. You just helped him relax.’  
Isidriel’s voice was low and steady across the room.  
‘He can tell you’re here with him, Dean, and he already feels much more at peace than he did earlier.’  
Dean sighed and sat back. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could handle. Memories were starting to come back as he sat here; unwanted memories.  
‘Cas, I need to go now, but I’ll be back, okay? I promise, buddy.’  
Dean felt Cas release his hand and he stood on shaky legs.  
Sam’s hand moved to the small of his back and he didn’t complain at being treated like an old man.  
Right now, he felt like one.  
Dean made it all the way back through the Vault and into the Den before he collapsed on the floor, sobbing.  
  



	12. Tattered Wings, Part Three: The Pieces Find a New Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we have Dean and Castiel basically recovering together, though we will not hear Castiel’s story in this chapter, maybe the next ones. We see a lot more of Dean’s thought process, and I hope I have not made him too thoughtful – Dean is after all a man of action. And truth be told, going through something as life changing as kidnapping and rape can only excuse so much internal change in a character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the chapter, we do have some touchy feely stuff, but it is not sexual. You have my apologies if I’ve managed to make it sound that way. Dean is partly responding to Castiel's need for more touch, and partly working through his own recovery by reminding himself of what makes Cas uniquely Cas and different from NotCas and his nightmares.  
>  **TRIGGERS: more flashbacks as Castiel's recovery milestones trigger panic attacks for Dean, rape victim works through flashbacks and experiences (not shown in writing), rape victim uses touch and sight to distinguish friend from the djinn who imitated his friend during attacks, major OTP is restored, rape victim's friend is shown to be traumatized by both his experiences & his friends ******

Supernatural or its characters are not mine - because I"m not that lucky, LOL.  
  
Dean managed to make it a regular routine to go sit with Cas for a while each day.  
At first, he could only handle sitting with Cas for a few minutes a day, and only if Sammy was there to help ground him. He grumbled about being a sissy, and Sammy would joke that they’d already revoked his man-card anyway, so what did it matter, and they would both laugh. The fact that Sammy was there with him, grounding him, was all the words they needed as far as he was concerned.  
Hell had been far worse than what the djinn had dished out, partly because of the violence and mind games, and partly because he knew there was no way out. At the time, he had no clue about who Castiel was, or how important he would become. The fact that Castiel’s image (not Cas himself Dean reminded himself fiercely) had been integral had changed things drastically for him.  
Even being here and sitting with Cas was enough to bring all those memories back, and with the djinn memories came Hell memories.  
It all became a cascade of horror that he wasn’t sure how to deal with. Each day he was able to sit with Cas, then work through the memories and the pain, felt like a monumental victory. Sometimes he felt like something very fundamental inside him had been shaken, cracked, and was very nearly broken beyond repair.  
Sam noticed that although Cas remained unmoving, his color and weight had improved since Dean started visiting him. Sam wasn’t sure how his weight could improve, since angels never ate, but Izzy insisted it was related to Dean’s bond with Cas helping him to recover his hold on his Grace. Sammy wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was improvement, and he was glad to see that. It was good for Dean to see that he was making a positive impact on Cas’s health.  
  
  
When Cas finally woke up, it nearly sent Dean into a panic.  
Sam was sitting in his usual place near the door, in case Dean needed him, when he heard Dean’s gasp. He turned, and was shocked to see sapphire blue eyes open and somewhat confused. Quickly, Sammy thought about Izzy, and he blinked in next to Sam, still drying his hands on a dish towel from the kitchen. Sam made his way over to Dean, quietly laying his hand on Dean's neck, grounding him. Dean smiled up at him briefly.  
Izzy had been stunned to see Castiel awake, and rushed to Cas, on the other side of the bed from Dean. Cas looked questions at Izzy.  
‘By our Father, Castiel, it is good to see your eyes open!’  
Izzy’s eyes shone with unshed tears, and Castiel just looked even more confused. Castiel tried to talk, but his voice was dry and disused, and only croaks came out.  
Dean didn’t even think about it, he just grabbed the glass of water and gently lifted Cas by the back of the neck so he could drink from the straw. Cas drank greedily and sank back. It wasn’t until Dean’s hand left the back of his neck that he looked over.  
He saw Dean and his blue eyes widened in shock and surprise, and a brief bit of instinctive pain and panic.  
‘Hey, Cas. Nice of ya’ to finally wake up, princess.’  
Dean’s voice was soft bravado, and he managed a sly grin. Cas’s eyes closed briefly, tears leaking down the sides of his face as he looked away. Dean brushed them away softly and Cas’s eyes opened again, his gaze full of questions aimed at Dean.  
‘Yeah, it’s really me, Cas. You stitched me together pretty good. Again. This is gettin’ to be a habit for us, isn’t it?’  
Dean’s smile was soft, and the corner of Cas’s mouth lifted briefly. Dean found himself wanting to kiss those chapped lips, and the thought brought unwanted memories with it so he pushed it back down uneasily.  
Cas seemed to feel his unease and looked away again, toward Isidriel.  
‘You’ve had all of us quite worried, brother.’  
Isidriel’s voice was softly admonishing, and held no real weight to it.  
Still, Castiel blanched a little. His voice was a rusty baritone.  
‘How- how did I get here?’  
Castiel could not conceive of how he had managed to wind up here, at the Bunker.  
It was the one place he had resolutely been avoiding since that horrible night over two months ago.  
He had vague memories of retreating to Purgatory, but after that, his memory became hazy.  
‘I- I cannot-‘ Castiel began and turned his head away from Dean, closing his eyes. Dean laid his hand on the side of Castiel’s bearded face.  
‘It’s okay, Cas. I know it wasn’t you. It could never be you hurting me like that.’  
Dean withdrew his hand and moved to get up. It was clear his presence was now upsetting Castiel.  
At this point, he didn’t think he could handle that.  
He felt Castiel’s hand grip his arm, pulling him back down. He laid a hand on Cas’s hand where it gripped his arm.  
‘It’s okay, Cas. I won’t ever leave you. I’ll be back. I- I can’t do this for very long.’  
Dean’s eyes were apologetic, but Cas seemed satisfied that Dean would be back.  
Dean left with Sam and Castiel focused on Isidriel. Isidriel could feel the difference in Castiel since Dean had been visiting every day. Castiel turned troubled sapphire eyes to Isidriel, after watching Dean and Sam leave.  
‘I… I cannot be responsible for hurting him again, brother. I cannot…’ Castiel’s voice was weak and croaky from disuse. He had barely spoken at all in Purgatory, even when the Leviathan found him and began torturing him.  
Isidriel laid a gentle hand on Castiel’s shoulder.  
‘He knows, Cas. He knows you would never do that to him.’  
Castiel closed his eyes at this, and wept quietly.  
  
  
The next day Dean and Sam showed up again, and Castiel let out a little breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  
He realized Dean felt different somehow, and Castiel found he could not quite quantify the difference. It felt like something had been stirred or shaken around inside, like things were not quite in the same place as before. Whatever bond held them together had thinned alarmingly, at least to Castiel. The quality and texture of the bond had changed, somehow.  
Castiel noticed with no small amount of jealousy (firmly tamped down) that the bond between the brothers had also changed, and strengthened even more, if that were possible. The bond between the brothers felt almost like a wall now and part of Castiel felt like grieving at being outside that wall.  
He felt Isidriel’s hand on his shoulder and knew his brother was picking up on his feelings and the loose trend of his thoughts.  
Dean approached the bed and sat next to Castiel, taking Castiel’s left hand in his right. Sammy's hand rested loosely in the small of Dean's back and as Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moved unobtrusively to Dean's shoulder. Castiel realized Sam was grounding Dean, that it was still difficult for Dean to be around him. Castiel let out a broken sigh and turned away. Cas felt his eyes water in that strange way humans had. Crying. Why was he crying?  
‘Dean,’ Cas croaked. He could not be responsible for these conflicted feelings Dean had. It broke something inside Castiel to feel Dean's conflict and panic and know that somehow he was the reason for it.  
Dean squeezed his hand and shook his head gently. Somehow he knew Cas wanted to apologize. But for what?  
‘Ain’t nothin’ to say sorry for, Cas. You put me back together. Again. That’s two more chances than most fellas get in one lifetime.’  
Dean put on a smirk.  
‘Guess I better thank Chuck I got an angel on my ass all the time, huh?’  
Cas managed a weak smile and clung shamelessly to Dean’s hand.  
He wanted to hold Dean, to feel Dean in his arms, or to let Dean hold him, feel him close.  
He needed that, so badly he felt like screaming and crying at the same time.  
Isidriel squeezed his shoulder in sympathy.  
Castiel knew it was too soon for Dean, too soon with the flashbacks.  
Dean seemed to realize he needed something, though, and slid his right hand out of Castiel’s grip, replacing it with his left.  
He awkwardly leaned over a little and rubbed his hand over Castiel’s chest, even sliding the covers down some.  
Castiel sighed deeply.  
Dean kept his eyes open, taking in every new detail of Cas’s bare chest.  
There were new scars there, and the old.  
His fingers unfailingly found the old scars, touching them softly.  
He didn’t realize there were tears running down his face until Cas’s hand detached from his and wiped them away.  
‘It’s really you, Cas.’  
That’s all Dean could manage to say, for now. He hoped Cas would understand somehow. That the scars, old and new, made this the Real Cas, gave him a new weapon to fight the flashbacks with.  
Now when the flashbacks came with Cas’s face, Dean could fight back.  
Nightmare Cas, NotCas, had no scars on his perfect chest.  
Dean ran his hand over Cas’s chest – smooth skin over firm toned muscle, now a bit wasted from sickness.  
Dean traced the almost imperceptible dip between pectorals in the middle of his chest, the line of the clavicle, the lack of ab definition.  
All these were Cas to him.  
‘It’s you, Cas. It’s you. Not him.’  
Dean’s voice was quiet but strong.  
Castiel let Dean’s hand wander where it would.  
It was like Dean was feeding him somehow.  
But that didn’t make sense.  
He was an angel, he didn’t need physical sustenance like he did when he was human. Nonetheless, Dean’s touch – hesitant though it was – was nourishment to his heart and soul. Dean’s hand stilled on Castiel’s chest, and his hand slowly balled up into a fist.  
‘You can’t leave me again, Cas. You… you just can’t.’  
Dean’s lip trembled and Cas rubbed his thumb over it. Cas’s gravelly baritone was still rough with disuse.  
‘I am here, Dean.’  
Dean felt something inside him shift back into place.  
Those words; so familiar, so simple, said so many times in so many different situations.  
Things still were not the same inside, and probably never would be.  
Something fundamental had changed for him, but now he felt like somehow, Cas would still be a part of it.  
Whatever happened, Cas would be part of his life.  
  



	13. A New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see Dean is still struggling with the rape in that he is unable to get back to his normal sexuality and unable to achieve erection due to the memories he is still struggling with. He is also still having some minor flashbacks when he starts to have even remotely sexual thoughts about Castiel. We have Dean and Cas’s first hug, Cas’s wings are not free yet, though they are the subject of a little flash of wing!kink explanation. Dean is still having panic attacks and flashbacks with some of Cas’s recovery milestones. I’ve shown another flashback here, related to Cas sweating as he works out. I’m showing Sam using grounding touch and verbal reminders to coach Dean through it. We also see Dean and Cas work through the implications of Dean’s trauma for their relationship. I realize this is pretty open for Dean, but again, I’m relying on the fundamental changes rape and kidnapping can have on a personality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are still seeing some major relationship changes with Sam and Dean, and we are also seeing how Dean's emotional struggle actively hurts Castiel. I also have Sam defining flashbacks as 'really intense memories' instead of fear. That is my personal experience watching family members who struggle with PTSD. There may be fear and intense emotions with the flashbacks, but they are part of the experience and not necessarily the cause.  
>  **Triggers: trauma flashback, touch grounding, verbal grounding, sexual dysfunction, erectile dysfunction caused by rape trauma, how Dean’s emotional struggle hurts Castiel. **  
> **  
> **  
> 

Supernatural and its characters are not mine. Alack and alas.  
  
The next time the nightmares hit, Dean had a lot more success dealing with them. ‘Not My Cas’ became a mantra for him at night, and he would remind himself of the feel of the scars on Cas’s chest and sides under his fingers. He would remember the contrast between smooth, raised scar tissue and the sun and wind roughened skin around it.  
Dean found he was able to spend more time in the room with Cas now, and without Sammy there. Spending time with Cas became just as healing for Dean as it was for Cas, though not as dramatically so. Dean often found Cas shirtless, and was profoundly grateful for that, though not for sexual reasons. His mind still shied away from anything remotely sexual as it brought up too many vivid memories. Seeing Cas’s scars and imperfections on open display, though, helped remind him that Fake Cas was a thing of the past – where it belonged.  
Dean found to his chagrin that he still could not stomach the thought of being intimate with anyone, much less Cas. He’d attempted to watch his Old Reliable, The Kentucky Fried Movie, and 'relieve a little stress' the way he used to, thinking that if Cas were not involved, he would not have trouble. He was not as surprised as he thought he would be to find the ‘Little Man’ unable to muster anything like ‘interest’. Too often since his kidnapping, those types of thoughts (what was he a prude now?) still brought with them memories – djinn memories, and less often now, Hell memories.  
‘Hey, Cas.’  
‘Hello, Dean.’  
Dean paused a moment and just watched Cas. Cas was sitting in an easy chair beside the bed now, a blanket over his knees. Dean smirked and tossed himself on the bed beside Cas’s chair. He didn’t need Sammy to follow him around anymore. He rolled onto his left side and looked Cas up and down with a laugh.  
‘You look like an old man, Cas.’  
‘I am extremely old, Dean.’  
‘How’s the wings, old man?’  
Dean’s voice was gently teasing now. He knew Cas was a little sensitive about his wings, in more ways than one. Cas shifted, uncomfortable with the topic.  
‘They are still painful, but they are healing, Dean.’  
‘Can I help, Cas?’  
Dean’s voice was quiet, almost unsure. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to touch Cas’s wings yet, or even look at them. It made him feel ashamed. Cas reached out and laid his hand on Dean’s arm.  
‘You are helping, Dean. Being here, it helps me,’ Cas withdrew his hand and looked down into his lap. His hands gripped each other tightly, as though they really wanted to reach out to Dean but weren’t allowed to.  
‘I know it is hard for you, Dean, to see me. Than-‘  
‘Don’t you start that shit with me, Cas,’  
Dean’s voice was angry as he sat up on the edge of the bed, leaning forward into Cas’s space. Cas’s hands gripped each other tighter, knuckles white.  
‘That asshole wasn’t you, Cas. And he had to dope me twelve ways from Sunday to get me to think he was. That shit wasn’t your fault, and it never will be.’  
Dean reached out and snatched Cas’s hands, squeezing them so tightly Cas thought it should hurt but it didn’t. Dean’s green eyes blazed into his.  
‘I need you, Cas. Dammit, you dumb son of a bitch.’  
Dean’s green eyes unexpectedly filled with emotion and he looked down. He wasn’t gonna’ cry. Stupid fucking angel blaming himself for shit that wasn’t his fault.  
‘Dean,’ Cas’s voice was gentle, and Dean looked up.  
‘I am here, Dean.’  
  
==================================================  
  
‘Hey, Dean, you mind if I go with you to see Cas?’  
Sam was aiming for deliberately casual, and he was lucky that Dean was distracted by whatever he was working on under Baby. Surely that car could not possibly need to be fixed anymore!  
‘Yeah, sure, Sammy; hey, hand me that wrench sitting on the wall over there.’  
Dean’s arm shot out from under Baby and Sam proffered the wrench. It disappeared under Baby, and Sam soon heard swearing and a dull thud. Dean emerged from under the vehicle, rubbing his head. Sam couldn’t help laughing.  
‘Still hard headed as always, Dean. Couldn’t get that loose screw in your head tightened, huh?’  
‘Shut up Sammy.’ Dean shook his head good naturedly and wiped his hands on a shop cloth as he got up from the trolley and made his way over to the stairs.  
‘Not washin’ up first?’  
Dean looked down awkwardly and smirked up at Sammy.  
‘He seems to like it when I smell like I’ve been under Baby all afternoon.’  
Sammy smiled.  
‘Yeah, well, he knows you pretty well, then, doesn’t he?’  
Dean trudged up the stairs, Sam trudging up after him. They made their way down the hall towards the room that had become Castiel’s recovery room. Dean knocked once and entered without waiting for a reply. What he saw took him by surprise.  
Castiel was up, though his wings were still gauze wrapped. He was doing chin ups from a bar placed in the doorway to the bathroom, and Dean felt his mouth go dry. A fine sheen of sweat glimmered on Castiel’s bare chest, and for a moment, Dean was back there in the NotBunker’s workout room with NotCas. Dean felt his vision narrow to a dark tunnel and closed his eyes as his breathing became fast and erratic, his heart suddenly beating a million miles an hour. Sweat popped out on his forehead and dripped along his jawline. For some reason, he couldn’t think. All he could see was NotCas standing there across from him on the workout mat.  
  
_It didn’t help, though, that Cas/NotCas was unfazed by the heat. Despite the fact that he wasn’t sweating, he too had removed his shirt. His skin glistened a little, almost glittered in places, accentuating hard muscle tones and lean movements. ___  
  
‘Dean, Dean, it’s okay. I’m here, Dean. It’s Sammy, I’m right here.’  
Sammy’s big hand was on the back of Dean’s neck, rubbing down under the collar of his tee shirt and up into his hairline. Dean focused on the feel of Sammy’s warm hand on his neck. He heard Sammy’s voice like it was far away, even though Sammy stood right next to him.  
‘Take your time, Dean. Breath. You got this, man.’  
‘Not my Cas, Not my Cas.’  
Sammy could barely hear Dean mumbling the mantra under his breath.  
‘That’s right Dean, your Cas didn’t do that. Your Cas would never do that.’  
He continued to rub the back of Dean’s neck.  
‘Remember your Cas, Dean? What does your Cas look like? Your Cas has scars, Dean.’  
Dean nodded; Sammy was right. NotCas had been perfect and unblemished. His Cas was scarred, and Dean remembered how he’d gotten some of those scars, the battles they’d fought together.  
NotCas was gone, His Cas had put him in the ground where he deserved to be. His Cas had made sure NotCas and anyone like him could never hurt him again. Dean took a shaky breath, his eyes still closed.  
‘My Cas took him out, didn’t he?’  
Dean’s voice was a question. Somehow, he doubted what he knew to be true. NotCas made so many things that were not true seem true. He felt Sammy nod next to him, and the giant hand gave an affirming squeeze to the back of his neck.  
‘Yes, Dean. Your Cas took him out good. Your Cas took them all out. They’ll never hurt you, or anyone else, ever again.’  
It was an exaggeration, Sammy knew, but Dean didn’t need to hear that right now. Next to him, Sammy felt Dean relax a little, and felt his breathing start to even out. He continued to rub the back of Dean’s neck.  
‘Take your time, Dean. It’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world.’  
Through all of this Castiel was frozen, a literal statue of an angel. He was afraid to move, afraid to breath, afraid to retreat into the bathroom and close the door, lest the commotion draw attention. He stood in the bathroom doorway, his hands loosely on the bar he had been doing chin ups on all afternoon. Inwardly, Castiel cursed himself. He should have set Isidriel up in the hallway, invisible, as a forward lookout. It must be a shock to Dean to see him up and around. He felt Dean’s breathing even out, and soon Dean took a deep, shuddering breath.  
‘I’m okay, Sammy. I’m a complete fucking sissy, but I’m okay.’  
‘Hey, who needs your man-card anyway? It’s over rated, I’m telling you. You don’t even get discounts on beer.’  
‘Yeah, yeah. You’re just tryin’ to make me feel better.’  
‘No, I’m not lyin’ Dean! No beer discounts. Tell me, what good is that?’  
Dean shook his head and opened his eyes, focused on his boots. He couldn’t look at Cas just yet. It had been a shock for sure to see Cas up and around, but that wasn’t what had triggered his flashback. He felt like a pansy for having to think about things like flashbacks and triggers.  
‘Sweat, Sammy. It’s a stupid ass thing to be afraid of-‘  
‘Hey, Dean! Quit it! I told you before, it’s not fear. You saw something that triggered a really intense memory. A flashback is a really intense memory, Dean.’  
Sammy thumped Dean’s back a couple of times.  
‘Dumbass,’ he started.  
Dean smiled, ‘Bitch,’  
‘Jerk,’ Sam finished.  
Just like that, Dean felt himself move past it. Sammy knew how far to take it, and when to let it go.  
‘Not bad for a little brother,’ he mumbled, smiling. Sammy laughed and nougied the top of Dean’s head because he could – giants could do that sort of thing.  
‘Who you callin’ little, shrimp wad?’  
‘Still big enough to kick your ass, puppy,’ Dean laughed and looked up at Cas.  
Cas nearly took his breath away, but for a good reason this time. He’d blinked away the sweat that had glistened earlier, and he stood transfixed in the doorway of the bathroom, his hands hanging loosely from the bar he’d been doing chin-ups on when they’d come in. Cas’s wings were gauze wrapped, but they sagged down below his shoulders, indicating his true emotional state despite his attempts to hide it. His stance was deliberately casual, but Dean could feel the tension and anguish inside Cas.   
Cas’s face was a study in blankness. He’d carefully wiped the anguish off his face when he realized his sweaty workout had inadvertently triggered Dean’s flashback. He didn’t know why in all heaven and earth it hadn’t occurred to him to set a lookout after all this time. Maintaining a human form was really causing him to lose his touch. Just a week ago he’d been sitting up in the chair. He should have seen this coming and prepared for it. And he hadn’t. And now Dean hurt. Castiel could feel the panic receding from Dean as Sam talked him down.   
‘Cas,’ Dean started, but didn’t know what else to say. Cas had heard everything.   
Castiel didn’t move. His eyes closed and he seemed to gather himself.  
‘I am here, Dean.’  
Something inside Dean relaxed a little hearing those words. They were like a mantra of their own, just for Cas and Dean. Cas would stay, Cas had promised not to leave, even though it had to hurt him to stay here.   
‘Cas, I’m-‘  
‘Dean, you do not need to apologize. There is nothing to be sorry for. I am sorry for causing you pain.’ Castiel’s eyes closed, and he seemed to hang from the bar above him for a moment. His wings drooped impossibly, threatened to come out of the gauze wrappings.   
‘Cas! You didn’t cause me pain,’ Dean’s voice was strident, emotional. Castiel shook his head, his eyes still closed.   
‘I can feel what you feel, Dean, intensely so.‘ Castiel paused and gathered himself again.   
‘My actions caused you to relive a painful part of your past, Dean.’ Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Dean. ‘I am sorry.’ Dean huffed and cleared his throat. He was hurting Cas without meaning to.   
‘Hey, it’s okay Cas. Nothin’ to forgive, okay?’   
Dean cleared his throat and approached Cas. Cas remained unmoved, frozen. He didn’t know whether it was okay to move or not. It always seemed safer to let Dean take the lead in these things, to just let Dean do whatever he needed to. Sometimes it was like torture, though. He could feel the trepidation and fear in Dean sometimes when he was working through some particularly intense memory or pain. It was all Cas could do at those times not to cry out the agony he felt through their bond. He steeled himself as Dean approached.   
Dean felt Cas brace himself, and remembered that Cas was especially tuned in to his emotions. Dean pushed all the turmoil out of his mind and focused on Cas. Dean brushed his fingers through Cas’s beard – he wondered why Cas had bothered to keep it, wondered if it was for his benefit, to keep himself from looking like NotCas. This thought troubled him, and he pushed it away. Cas didn’t need his turmoil right now, Cas needed his help. Helping Cas was helping himself; they were tied together so deeply in ways Dean couldn’t pretend to understand.   
Dean’s fingers trailed through the beard at Cas’s jawline and down the line of his Adam’s apple and along the dip between the collar bones. He felt Cas swallow, felt the muscles in his throat convulse and relax.   
Cas was a marvel, he really was. Dean let his thoughts drift to what he liked about Cas. He liked the strong chest, he liked the lack of ab definition – why did he like that? Because it made Cas real. Dean’s fingers drifted along with his thoughts.   
Up Cas’s sides, no longer able to count ribs, because Cas had been able to put on weight again since Dean had started visiting. His hands lingered here, brushing over and over Cas’s ribs, unable to count them anymore. Cas was still under his touch, unbreathing, suspended.  
Dean reminded himself that Cas was putting on weight and starting to thrive again because of something he was doing. Somehow, it made him feel stronger again.   
‘I can’t count your ribs anymore,’ Dean’s voice was quiet, his tone hopeful.   
Castiel wasn’t sure how much to say.   
‘You feed me, Dean.’ He didn’t know how else to say it. Angels didn’t need physical sustenance. For Dean to spend time with him, for Dean to touch him – these things were what sustained him. Every time Dean came to visit, he felt his Grace grow stronger. To his surprise, Dean nodded.   
‘Izzy explained it to me, or he tried to.’   
‘You researched it because you wanted to help me?’ Now it was Cas’s turn to sound hopeful.   
‘Yeah, I did. So what? My buddy nearly dies, I gotta help him, right?’   
Castiel seemed to relax a little, to be genuinely flattered by Dean’s seemingly rough words.   
‘Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me.’   
Dean continued his exploration of Cas, his fingers finding all the now-familiar scars on Cas’s chest and sides. He ducked briefly under Cas’s arm and wing to stand at his back in the bathroom. He carefully avoided the wings where they met the flesh of Cas’s back.   
‘It’s all right, Dean,’ Cas began. He knew Dean was well aware of how sensitive his wings were – at least when Dean touched them.   
‘Are you sure, Cas? I’m not tryina’ start somethin’. Still too many ghosts rattlin’ around up there to be startin’ that shit.’   
‘Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the thought.’   
He didn’t know what else to say, so he decided to be thankful for what Dean was trying to do. He didn’t mention that angels had a different sense of modesty and ethics when it came to physical forms. Being a wave of light with celestial intent tended to change one’s perspective on the physical.   
‘Do you think you could hug me, Cas?’   
Dean’s voice was soft and hesitant again as he moved under Cas’s arm and wing to stand in front of him. He missed Cas’s hugs, but he was terrified at the same time.   
‘Are you sure, Dean?’   
‘No, but I’m not gonna let what happened stop me from livin’ my life, Cas.’   
‘Of course, Dean.’   
Cas’s arms dropped from the bar over his head and he held his arms open, waiting for Dean to take a bare step forward. Dean stepped forward into Cas’s arms and Cas held him gently around the waist, mindful to not impede his arms or make him feel trapped. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, mindful of his wings, and held on tight. He buried his face in Cas’s neck and just breathed for a moment.   
‘God, I’ve missed you, Cas.’   
Castiel huffed a laugh.   
‘You have seen me every day since I was rescued, Dean.’   
‘I miss us, Cas.’ Dean hesitated. ‘I miss us, but I’m not there yet.’   
‘I know, Dean. I will be here.’  
  



	14. A Safe Place Rediscovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short right now, and will be the last we hear of Cas and Dean for a few chapters.  
> Cas’s wings are finally free, we see some more wing!kink explanation, more hugs for Dean and Cas, though this does trigger some lusty thoughts for Dean that also trigger some minor flashback moments he handles easily. We see that Cas is still having some difficulty dealing with Dean’s trauma. For the first time since the kidnapping, Dean feels safe in Cas’s embrace. Dean and Cas talk about the sexual side of their relationship, and how Dean’s trauma affects that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and fluffy. (That makes me think of Gabriel Iglesias, though he is not short, LOL.)  
>  **Triggers: minor flashbacks that are easily dealt with, wing!kink explained again, Dean and Cas hug, Dean feels safe with Cas again, rape victim discusses sexual dysfunction in general terms with his SO. ******

Supernatural and its amazing characters are, alas, not mine.  
  
‘Just leave the gauze off for a while, Isidriel, please.’  
Castiel was standing at the foot of the bed, his bare back to the bedroom doorway, flexing his wings in the bedroom, though not very much due to the constrained space. He knocked bottles off the counter in the bathroom and sighed.  
‘I wish I could curse, Isidriel.’  
Isidriel smiled knowingly.  
‘I know, brother. Let’s talk to Dean today about leaving the gauze off your wings, see what he thinks.’  
‘He happens to think its just fine, elf.’  
Dean stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorjamb watching Castiel and Isidriel. Castiel was tempted to make his wings disappear, but that felt like a bigger risk, so he just stood there. His wings folded up tightly behind his back and he turned around reluctantly, eyes on the floor. He didn’t think he could stand to see any fear and panic on Dean’s face.  
‘Hey, it’s okay Cas. I’m fine.’  
Dean hitched up from his lean against the doorjamb and walked over to Castiel. He chucked Castiel under the chin and troubled blue eyes met his. His thumb brushed Castiel’s jawline briefly before he dropped his hand. Castiel caught his hand and led him over to the bed and they sat on the edge of the bed. Dean was on Castiel’s right, and he felt the Grace echo in the handprint on his shoulder, as he sometimes did now when they were close. Dean felt Castiel’s wings brush his back and right shoulder, as if hugging him. Dean smirked over at Castiel, his eyes light.  
‘Hey, now, no flirtin’. Told ya I ain’t got the stones for that right now.’  
Dean felt the wing withdraw and felt cold suddenly.  
‘Sorry, Dean. My wings have a lot in common with a dog’s tail; they are an expression of my subconscious desires.’  
Castiel seemed to slump in on himself and Dean sighed. Okay, so teasing wasn’t in the cards yet. He patted Castiel’s knee and bumped shoulders with him.  
‘It’s actually okay, Cas. I was just trying to tease you. I’m sorry. I like it when your wings do their own thing. It’s like you’re tellin’ me what’s really on your mind when you haven't got the words, you know? Your wings never lie, Cas. I like that.’  
Castiel straightened a little at this and seemed to relax. He let go of the control he’d held over his wings, and the right wing immediately stretched out behind Dean, wrapping around Dean’s right shoulder as though Cas had his arm draped around it. Cas’s left wing wrapped itself around Cas’s front, and Dean felt large Primary feathers brushing his knee.  
Dean felt himself relax a little at that. He hadn’t realized Cas would miss holding him. Never realized that was something Cas liked in the first place. Dean smiled as Cas glanced over his own wing at him.  
‘I take it you miss holding me?’  
Cas blushed, but his wings stayed put.  
‘I didn’t realize I did. I just let go of all the control I’ve been using over my wings.’  
‘Would you mind if we hugged again?’  
  
Dean’s voice felt strong and sure, and Cas couldn’t feel any hesitation or fear. Something inside him really needed to be close to Dean. He nodded, and his voice was a little huskier than normal when he spoke.  
‘Yes, Dean, I would like to hug you again.’  
They stood, and Dean barely had time to turn in to face Cas before Cas’s wings enveloped them both. Dean’s arms were trapped against Cas’s chest, but he didn’t mind.  
Cas’s arms followed his wings, and he wrapped his arms loosely around Dean’s waist so he could still move his arms if he wanted. His wings formed a bit of a shield around them. Dean felt himself sigh, closed his eyes, and leaned his chin on Cas’s shoulder.  
For the first time in months, Dean realized he felt safe.  
‘You feel that, Cas?’  
Dean could hear the smile and relief in Cas's voice when he finally spoke.  
‘Yes, Dean. You feel safe.’  
‘Yeah, Cas. Still haven't got the stones for shit, though.’  
‘I am content with where we are, Dean. You will be ready when you are ready.’  
‘And you’ll be here?’  
‘I will be here.’  
Dean heaved a deep, broken sigh against Cas’s shoulder.  
‘Cas?’  
‘Yes, Dean.’  
‘What- What if I’m never ready?’  
‘That is fine, Dean. I am content with whatever you are ready to give.’  
Somehow, Dean felt a little disappointed at that.  
‘You mean you won’t miss it?’  
Dean held himself, waiting.  
‘Of course I miss it, Dean.’  
Dean heard the smile in Cas’s voice and looked up, his arms still trapped against Cas’s chest. Sapphire blue eyes looked over at him, soft and gentle. Dean’s gaze drifted down to Cas’s full lips and he felt a small shift inside. He thought about kissing those lips, and felt the unwanted memories start to rise up. He tamped them down and rested his chin on Cas’s shoulder again.  
‘Are you okay, Dean?’  
Dean felt Cas’s wings loosen a little and he threw his arms around Cas’s shoulders in response.  
‘Just had a little moment there, Cas, that’s all.’  
‘I understand, Dean.’  
Castiel paused, a smile clear in his voice.  
‘You do realize you are holding me now.’  
‘Yeah. Don’t want ya to go, Cas.’  
‘I am not leaving, Dean. It is my room, after all.’  
Castiel’s voice had a small note of humor in it and Dean smiled against Cas’s shoulder. Cas’s wings had tightened again around Dean. He felt the pressure against his shoulders and along his back, felt the Primaries brushing his ass and thighs. It was like Cas was giving him a full body hug. Dean sighed again and just let himself feel safe.  
  



	15. Do Archangels Get Crushes? What About Moose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly fluff, and shows us a little more of our new angel Isidriel, as well as Sam. We also see Castiel interacting without Dean. We learn that Sam has been secretly grieving Gabriel’s ‘death’, and that Gabriel may not be as dead as everyone thinks. I’ve put in some of my own ideas about Archangel capabilities in the next few chapters, let me know what you think. The next few chapters will focus more on Sabriel, though we will have a short chapter update on Cas and Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isidriel’s a little surprised when he realizes Sam has been secretly crushing on Gabriel – so secretly that not even Castiel has twigged to it. Dean has his suspicions, but Dean is only referenced in this chapter.  
>  **Triggers: mainly a fluff chapter; major character death referred to (Gabriel), canon/series events referred to, major OTP is referenced (Sabriel). **  
> ****

Supernatural and its characters do not belong to me - sadly.  
  
Isidriel found himself lying on his back on the workout mat in the Gym. Again. How could Sam be so fast when he was so large? One minute he was watching Sam’s face, and the next he was on his back. Isidriel shook his head and heaved himself to his feet, refusing the hand Sammy held out as he leaned over him. Isidriel was irritated with himself. No human should be able to get the better of him.  
‘Need a break, Izzy?’  
Sam’s voice was good natured and held no arrogance, but Isidriel still found himself irrationally irritated and growled. For a week now they had been sparring together, Isidriel trying to learn different forms of self-protection since Castiel was finally up and around and ‘wings free’.  
‘No, Sam. I require no breaks or sustenance, unlike you.’  
Sam felt the irritation and frustration coming off of Isidriel and shrugged. The angel was not used to fighting like Cas was. Cas was a phenomenal hand to hand combatant, and in spite of the many times Dean called him a ‘baby in a trenchcoat,’ he knew Dean had a lot of respect for those skills.  
‘Watch my shoulders, Izzy. Shoulders telegraph movement more than the head does.’  
Isidriel huffed in irritation, and his voice came out as a sneer.  
‘I don’t need fighting lessons from a human.’  
‘Apparently you do, brother.’  
Castiel had been watching them from the doorway. His wings were invisible because they all knew Dean would never venture anywhere near the Gym. He avoided this corridor like it was the Plague Incarnate.  
‘Sam here is one of the best hand to hand fighters I’ve seen in a long time. And I sparred with some of the Gladiators in what you call ancient Rome, Sam.’  
Sam blushed at this compliment and looked down.  
‘Cas, I’m not that good.’  
Castiel raised an eyebrow.  
‘Yes, you are Sam. You are not Lucifer’s True Vessel for nothing, just as Dean is not Michael’s True Vessel for no reason. It is much more than bloodlines, Sam.’  
Sam glanced up.  
‘Thanks, Cas.’  
‘Do not thank me for speaking truth. I cannot lie, Sam.’  
‘I know, Cas. Thanks anyway.’  
‘You are welcome, Sam.’  
Castiel turned to Isidriel and frowned.  
‘Quit taking your frustration out on Sam. You are not trained to combat as he is. He has been trained to combat since he was young. You would do well to learn from him.’  
Isidriel huffed and looked away as Castiel turned to Sam.  
‘Start again, but with me, and when I tell you, let’s go through it move by move.’  
Sam nodded, and Castiel turned to Isidriel again.  
‘Sit and watch carefully. I will go through this move by move and show you what you need to focus on.’  
Sam and Castiel worked slowly through a few key Krav Maga moves, showing Isidriel each move. Isidriel watched closely how they moved together. It was almost like a dance. Castiel motioned him up, and stepped aside. Isidriel tried working through the same moves with Sam, but it was not as easy as it looked. He kept watching Sam’s face instead of his shoulders.  
Once again, he found himself on his back on the mat. This time Sam was straddling him, down on one knee like he was praying, his hands still fisted in Isidriel’s workout robe. Sam’s hazel eyes glittered good naturedly, and Isidriel became very aware of how good he smelled. Isidriel’s irritation flashed and he shoved Sam up and nearly across the room with his Grace.  
‘What the fuck, Izzy?’  
Sam caught himself and stumbled into the wall. He was bewildered. Why was Izzy suddenly so irritated with him?  
‘Maybe you should be the one sparring with him, Cas. I don’t know what’s gotten into him since we started these lessons.’  
Sam shook it off and started out the door of the Gym.  
‘I will talk to him, Sam.’  
Sam nodded and left. Castiel turned to Isidriel, hands folded over his chest as he watched Isidriel. Isidriel had not got up from the mat, he still lay there on his back as though stunned. Castiel seemed to relent a little, uncrossed his arms and moved over to where Isidriel lay on the mat. He crouched down next to Isidriel. Isidriel was clearly irritated with himself.  
‘Brother,’ Isidriel growled reluctantly. Lately he seemed to have no patience for being close to Sam.  
‘Isidriel,’ Castiel began. Isidriel glowered up at him.  
‘Don’t start, brother. Just don’t.’  
‘You have been under great stress the last several months. Working so closely with humans again.’  
Castiel looked down at his knees.  
‘I know it has been difficult for you, brother. Thank you.’  
Isidriel growled again and rolled away from Castiel, pushing himself up to stand on the mat.  
‘I am only obeying our Father, Castiel.’  
‘What will you do now, Isidriel? Has Father given you new orders?’  
Isidriel paced.  
‘No. I have not heard from Father. You are healed, and your relationship with Dean is restored. It is different, and still strained, but you will safely find your way forward from here.’  
Isidriel stopped his pacing and sent a worried glance to Castiel.  
‘I know not what Father wants of me.’  
Castiel smiled, all experience.  
‘Father wants you to choose, Isidriel.’  
‘Choose what, brother? I choose to obey Father, of course.’  
Castiel smiled again; this was a familiar battle ground for him, with many other angels.  
‘Choose your path, Isidriel.’  
Isidriel headed for the door. He threw a reply over his shoulder as he left the Gym.  
‘Then I must meditate, brother.’  
Isidriel set out to walk the not inconsiderable grounds of the Bunker. He followed a well-worn path that wound in and out of the woods surrounding the Bunker. Late summer heat had already scorched the grass brown and baked the life out of all but the hardiest weeds.  
Sam was in a clearing near the Bunker, working through a martial arts routine that he’d seen Castiel work through frequently. Isidriel remembered that Castiel had told him he found it calming, especially working through the moves while keeping his wings manifested.  
Isidriel stopped a few yards away from Sam, but in the edge of his vision. It never went well to surprise a Winchester. Isidriel smiled at that thought and let his wings manifest. He watched Sam for a moment, then paced himself to Sam, moving in time with him. Castiel was right, he found. It was nearly impossible to allow distracting thoughts in, it took too much focus. By the time Sam finished, Isidriel had recovered his equilibrium and managed to hide his wings. Sam turned and smiled, speaking as he walked over to Isidriel.  
‘Hey, Izzy. Thought you didn’t want to work out with me.’  
Isidriel looked down; he felt his wings reached forward around him towards Sam. Sam felt the brush of invisible feathers against his arm and smiled.  
‘No hard feelings, okay Izzy? I promise. I’ll just make sure Cas can spar with you instead.’  
‘Thank you Sam. I appreciate your consideration.’  
‘You’ve been under a lot of strain lately. You’ve really done double duty, healing Dean and helping me with his recovery, then Cas. It’s a wonder you don’t haul off and deck one of us every once in a while.’  
‘I could never do that, Sam.’  
‘I know, Izzy. It’s just my way of saying that you have a right to feel stressed. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you.’  
Sam stepped past Isidriel and started to make his way back to the Bunker. Isidriel caught his arm.  
‘Will you-‘ Isidriel began. What was he asking? ‘Will you just sit with me for a while?’  
Sam’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded without hesitation.  
‘Sure Izzy, I can do that.’  
Sam made his way over to a shaded edge of the clearing and sat down in the grass, and Isidriel sat a little apart from him. They just sat like that for some minutes, listening to the sounds around them. The rustle of wind in the long field grass, the dry lilting buzz of the cicadas in the trees around them as the sun baked itself into the earth for the last time that day.  
Sam watched Isidriel as he sat in the long grass, eyes closed, probably meditating. He was so different than the other angels. Sam thought about the angels that had become allies and friends. Castiel, Cas, like a brother now. He couldn’t imagine life without Cas, or even his brother without Cas. Those had not been pretty times in his brother’s life, when Cas was gone. And Anna; Anna had been something else. He’d seen the way Cas had looked at Dean when he’d kissed Anna, and his heart had nearly broken for the angel. He thought of Uriel and Zachariah and Naomi, and his hand clenched into a fist at his side. He was glad Chuck had left them in the Big Empty.  
There was one angel – Archangel – he refused to let himself think of. But the thoughts came anyway. Gold eyes and a lean form, so much life and vitality packed into a man nearly half a foot shorter than he was. And older even than Castiel by so many millenia it was meaningless to try and count them.  
  
‘What happens when archangels die?’  
Izzy was startled out of his meditation by Sam’s quiet question. It was almost as though Sam were talking to himself, and had forgotten Isidriel was even there.  
‘When an angel dies, they go to the Big Empty, unless Father catches them, like he did Castiel.’  
Izzy pulled blades of grass from the ground as he spoke.  
‘A Nephilim can also summon an angel, even from the Big Empty.’  
Izzy looked up at Sam significantly.  
‘But Archangels cannot die, Sam, unless Father sends them to the Big Empty personally. They generally end up in an alternate state. If they choose to come back, it often takes days for them to make their way back to this dimension, depending on how they died and whether or not Father is helping them.’  
Sam sucked in a breath at this and fell back in the grass. He scrubbed his face with his hands.  
‘Shit.’  
Isidriel could feel that Sam was struggling with something. Sam’s emotions were so tangled, Isidriel couldn’t make sense of them.  
‘Gabe,’ Sam whispered.  
Gabriel might be out there somewhere, making his way back from an alternate dimension his poor human mind could barely comprehend. Sam thought of the short feisty archangel again and smiled fondly. Gabe didn’t feel nearly as old as he was. Gabe was so full of life it burst from him in waves.  
‘Gabe is coming back. I know it.’  
Sam’s voice was soft, and Isidriel heard a new note in it. Whoever this Gabe was, Sam had it bad for him, he could tell that much.  
‘Gabe,’ Izzy questioned. Sam seemed not to have heard him, lost in his thoughts.  
He wondered who Gabe could be, and what he had to do with Archangels….  
Shit.  
That Gabe?  
Isidriel was surprised. But not really, in a way. Now that he thought about Sam, and what he very little he knew about Gabriel, they seemed to fit, in much the same way that Castiel and Dean seemed to fit.  
‘Gabriel, huh? Does anyone know you’ve been secretly crushing on an Archangel?'  
Sam threw a bitch face at Isidriel and sat up, shaking grass from the back of his shirt.  
‘I’m not crushing on Gabriel. The fuckwad. He’s such a twat I could strangle him.’  
‘I have never heard you get so frustrated with anyone, Sam.’  
Sam glanced over at Isidriel.  
‘I doubt he even knows I’m around.’  
Izzy rolled his eyes.  
‘Trust me Sam, he knows you’re alive. You radiate, you and Dean both do.’  
‘Radiate? What, like a nuclear reactor?’  
Izzy shrugged.  
‘Sort of. Dean radiates righteousness, he glows with it. It’s no wonder Castiel fell for him.’  
Sam smirked.  
‘I have no desire to know about my brother’s sex life, Izzy.’  
Izzy smiled at this.  
‘You radiate compassion. Giant waves of it, like a beacon. Lucifer made the mistake of thinking it made you weak.’  
Sam huffed and looked down.  
‘Thanks, Izzy.’  
‘Not to mention how deadly you are, Sam. It’s an intoxicating combination for someone as old as Gabriel.’  
‘He terrifies me, Izzy.’  
Sam admitted it reluctantly. Gabe did terrify him. Gabe was like a force of nature, wild and untamed. It was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measures. Sometimes he wished Gabe could moderate himself, and other times he knew it would be like taming the wind. He wouldn’t be the same Gabe if he was tame. Izzy nodded.  
‘He terrifies you because you are an intelligent man, and you have your head screwed on straight. If he didn’t scare you, I’d worry about you.’  
‘But Castiel doesn’t scare Dean.’  
Izzy smiled at this.  
‘Dean is terrified of Castiel, but not in the way you think. Castiel is his safe place, Sam. And having a safe place is terrifying for Dean.’  
Sam nodded at this. It felt true, and he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it before. He wondered what that meant for him and Gabe. What would it look like if Gabe noticed him – like really, really Noticed him? Sam looked down shyly.  
‘What would it look like if Gabe noticed me?’  
‘He would actually break his millions-of-years-streak of just messing around on Earth and doing whatever he feels like. He would probably put you through a little hell first, to see what kind of man you are. If you managed to survive or pass his little tests, he’d actually come down off the bench and go to bat for you.’  
Sam sucked in a breath. That’s exactly what Gabe had done. Gabe had come down off the bench and gone to bat for them. He had actually died protecting them, but only after putting them all through the wringer, first.  
‘Shit, Izzy.’  
Izzy grinned and stood up.  
‘Just recounted your history to you, did I?’  
Sam shook his head and stood, walking with Izzy back to the Bunker.  
‘I can’t believe he might be back, Izzy.’  
Sam shook his head again.  
‘I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified. He has a weird way of showing his affection.’  
Izzy smiled over at Sam.  
‘I think you will find that will change somewhat, Sam. Gabriel was testing you, finding out what kind of person you and your brother are. He’ll still be Gabriel, though. A tiger cannot change its stripes, after all.’  
  



	16. Are Things Really Getting Back to Normal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas moves back to his room – now he has a ‘roomie’, Isidriel. Dean has a flashback moment, and Cas is able to help him through it – squee! (I know, right?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and semi fluffy, except for the fact that the emotional importance of this moment means Dean has a flashback in a situation where he normally wouldn’t.  
>  **Triggers: rape victim flashback, helped by SO ******

Supernatural and its characters do not belong to me.  
  
‘Cas oughta move back into his room.’  
Sam and Dean were sitting in the Den. Dean was taking up the couch, as usual, and Sam was in the recliner next to it. Sam threw a pillow at Dean in exasperation.  
‘Dean, you’re not ready.’  
Dean threw the pillow back.  
‘Says who, Nurse Nancy? So I’ll see him wandering the hallways whenever he goes to pee. Oh, wait, he doesn’t need to do that.’   
‘Dean, come on. I think seeing him wandering around the Vault is –‘  
Dean threw an irritated look at Sam.  
‘So? So I have a flashback. You guys will see me through it like you always do.’  
Sam cleared his throat.  
‘Dean, it’s not you I’m worried about. Well, not only you.’  
Dean looked over at Sam. Surprise, then guilt crossed his face. Right. Cas could feel the turmoil he caused Dean when Dean had flashbacks.  
‘Cas. Dammit, Sammy, just tell me I’m a self-centered prick and be done with it.’  
‘Dean, you are a self-centered prick.’  
Sam threw a bitch face at him, and then laughed. Dean shook his head.  
‘Okay, I literally asked for that one. Bitch.’  
‘Jerk.’  
‘Well, I vote for whenever he thinks he’s ready, then.’  
‘Okay, Dean.’  
=========================================  
  
There was remarkably little ceremony when Castiel decided to take his old room back. Of course, with Isidriel here, it meant he had what Dean called a ‘roomie’. It had been a two weeks since Sam and Isidriel’s sparring incident, and a month and a half since Sam had first found Cas. Still, Castiel didn’t have anything to bring with him to the room. Dean seemed to handle their interactions better when he went shirtless and left his wings exposed, so he didn’t even have too many shirts to bring. They did decide that walking through the Vault required a little protocol, though.  
Dean had protested, of course.  
‘Protocol? What am I, the fucking Queen of England?’  
‘I am sorry, Dean. I would like to minimize the harm it causes you.’  
So it was decided that Cas and Isidriel would go first, with Sam and Dean after them. They’d figured that Cas being where Dean could see him would be better as they walked through the Vault than having Cas behind him. Like NotCas had been when he was kidnapped. They made it partway through the Vault, but they hadn’t been able to avoid walking past the tables.  
Cas did his best to just keep walking, like he and Sam had discussed privately the night before. They felt like if Dean did have a flashback, Cas removing himself as soon as possible would be best, and Sammy would be there to help Dean through it.  
  
Dean did well until he neared the end of the table. Dean felt his heart start beating out of his chest, his breathing became fast and erratic, his vision started to go gray, and his knees buckled. Sammy was right there, catching his arm and trying to move him forward past the offending table and down the hallway.  
Dean found himself balking at approaching any closer to the table, and dug in his heels. Sammy gave in and wound up sitting on the floor with him, in the middle of the Vault. Castiel sensed Dean’s growing panic and broke into a jog, wasting no time in disappearing down the hallway, Isidriel close behind.  
Dean shocked everyone, including himself, when he realized that his panic increased as he watched Castiel disappear down the hallway. He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice, and the words seemed almost to be ripped out of him unwillingly.  
‘Cas! Cas! Don’t leave me here, dammit! Cas, come back!’  
Sammy sucked in a shocked breath and kept rubbing Dean’s back. Dean struggled to pick himself up as Castiel came back up the hallway and stood just in the Vault room, surprise and relief written on his face in nearly equal measures. How could he be a trigger and a safe place at the same time? The trigger must be something else, then. Quickly, Cas looked around the room, at the tables and chairs but nothing was amiss.  
Perhaps it was just that this step was so important to Dean, then. Cas blinked himself in front of Dean, so Dean would not have to watch him walk past the end of the table again. He squatted down in front of Dean, forearms resting on his knees.  
‘I am here, Dean.’  
‘Cas, why did you leave? You left me, Cas.’  
Castiel looked over at Sammy, who shrugged. They were both puzzled. It seemed as though Dean had turned a corner in his emotional recovery, and managed to completely separate Castiel from the djinn who had imitated him.  
‘I thought seeing me here would upset you, Dean. I am sorry.’  
Dean reached out to him and Cas held his hand, pulling Dean up with him. He could feel Dean’s distress, but he could also feel that he was not connected to it. Castiel felt a little ashamed of the relief that cascaded through him.  
‘That makes sense, I guess. I don’t know anymore.’  
Dean glanced over at the table, and looked away quickly. He felt ashamed and humiliated. He had walked past that table dozens of times, deliberately, in a stubborn effort to work past the flashbacks and memories. Izzy and Sam had shaken their heads at him, but hadn’t seemed surprised. Dean pushed himself to unholy limits partly because he refused to recognize his own weakness – why would this issue be different?  
Dean felt Cas’s wings surround him, blocking out the view of anything but Cas. Part of Dean was relieved and grateful, and part of him was angry and determined. Dean flashed an angry look up at Cas and shoved at his wings.  
‘I’m not letting that Goddamned djinn take anything else away from me, Cas! I Goddamned nearly let him take you away. I’m not letting him have the Goddamned Vault, too!’  
Dean shoved at Cas’s wing again, and they lowered. Cas wasn’t sure what to do, so he let his wings be his guide. They seemed inclined to trust Dean, withdrawing to a ready state, able to fly away with Dean at a moment’s notice.  
‘Okay, Dean. What do you want?’  
Dean took a deep breath and nodded his head once, quickly. He spoke softly to Cas’s bare chest. He hated feeling this weak, this out of control.  
‘I want to walk past that goddamned stupid table and go to your room and hang out, like a normal person. Goddamnit.’  
Cas stepped back out of Dean’s way, his hand going to Dean’s lower back. Dean felt Cas’s left wing brush his left shoulder, and the Grace Echo felt oddly reassuring when it thrummed through him. Dean took a deep breath and deliberately looked over at the tables in question. They were clean – religiously so – but for a moment, in his mind’s eye, NotCas lay sprawled on his back on the table, on top of a nonexistent mess of papers.  
Dean felt Cas’s hand move on his lower back, and felt Cas’s left wing brush the handprint on his left shoulder gently, deliberately. The Grace Echo rang out inside him and brought with it a measure of calm. Dean took another deep breath and stepped forward. Cas stepped with him, silent and patient, his warm hand never leaving the small of Dean’s back, and his left wing constantly brushing the back of his shoulder.  
Dean risked another glance over at the table. This time in his mind’s eye, he saw himself as the djinn poison started to take effect, his arms scrabbling at the tabletop but unable to hang onto anything. Again, Dean felt Cas’s warm hand at the small of his back, felt Cas’s left wingtip brush deliberately against the handprint on his shoulder, again causing the Grace Echo to thrum through him. It was a quiet reminder that Cas would always be there for him. But more than that, it was a quiet reminder that he had survived worse than this, and would survive this as well.  
Dean glanced over at Cas. Cas was quiet, impassive, an immovable force. They stood so closely – for a moment Dean huffed to himself. He was always on Cas to get out of his personal space. He never stopped to realize how safe he felt when Cas was close, and now nervous it used to make him to feel safe. Cas smiled at him, gentle and warm, like he only did for Dean.  
Dean took a deep breath and another step forward. He focused his gaze on the hallway just a few dozen yards ahead. Maybe tomorrow he and Cas would sit at the table in question, just sit for a moment. He was determined that the djinn not steal any more of his life than it already had. It had nearly cost him his angel already. It wouldn’t steal anything else from him.  
  



End file.
